


Mystical Misfits

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Mystical Misfits [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: It's calm in the household of Logan, Roman and Patton, a wolf shifter, a warrior, and a mage, respectively. Until one of them gets hurt, and their Fae friend Virgil's past comes back to haunt him.
Series: Mystical Misfits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603423
Comments: 23
Kudos: 89





	1. Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> So this is gonna be a pretty long story. That's what happens when I try and write a one shot, it turns into a novel. This is my first go at something completely outside the world and canon of Sanders Sides, and it was really fun to have more freedom with the characters. So please leave a comment, and let me know what you think!

He was tired. Gods, he was so tired, he didn’t even know where he was anymore, what time of day or night it was. He was barely aware of damp grass against his face, from rain or dew, he couldn’t tell. His breath came in shallow gasps, and he felt oddly dizzy, as if the world was tilted twenty five degrees off it’s axis, as if his head was lower than his legs and all the blood was rushing to it. Or maybe it was all rushing out of him. He couldn’t tell.   
He heard a panicked voice calling his name. He thought it was his name, anyway, he couldn’t seem to remember. He couldn’t seem to hear anything, or at least, hear well. It sounded like static.   
“Get away from him!” That voice was familiar. It burned now with anger, with a fierceness he recognized wasn’t normal. He tried to call out, to calm that frantic voice, but he couldn’t seem to fill his lungs.   
“What do you care? He’s just a filthy wolf.” He felt a kick to his ribs, and whimpered, curling tighter around himself. That voice made him shiver, made his breath snag. He remembered that voice, he remembered running, fleeing. He remembered his paw getting caught in a trap, trying to escape. He remembered a flash of white hot pain, that burn in his chest that wouldn’t fade, that made his breath short and left him staggering. Footsteps chasing him, twigs snapping behind him, another twang, another searing wave flooding through him, staggering a few steps before he shivered and collapsed, form shifting back to human.   
He knew that was bad. He knew he’d lost control of his form. He knew that only happened when a Wolf had been completely depleted of all energy, all will and strength. When they were dying. Was he dying? He hadn’t thought it would feel like this, to die.   
“Back. Off. Now.” The voice, the voice he knew, growled, low and angry, deep in his throat.  
“Or what, little brother? Aren’t you supposed to be a hunter? Don’t you want to have a little fun? We had quite a chase. Of course, I let it have a head start. It’s no fun when they know they’re doomed. They give up too easily then.” He whimpered, feeling something cold and sharp against his throat, blistering his skin.  
“Such a shame he shifted back, their pelts make wonderful cloaks.” He heard a roar of anger, then the sharp vanished. He heard a thump on the ground nearby, the sound of tussling, a load thump, a groan. He felt someone place a hand on his arm, and he flinched, trying to pull away.   
“Shh, shh, shh, it’s me, it’s ok, it’s me.” It was his voice, and he let himself slump, let himself fold into the arms now cradling him. The world around him was fuzzy, colors too bright, oversaturated, shapes just a blur.  
“ro…” He wheezed out, coughing, feeling a trickle of blood running down from the corner of his mouth.   
“Shh, don’t talk. Hold on, just, just hold on, you’re gonna be fine.” He took in a shaking breath that rattled in his lungs.   
“That… is a highly… illogical statement.” He choked out, the world going black.   
“no no no. C’mon Logan, don’t do this to me.” Roman breathed out, cradling him to his chest carefully as he stood, sparing a glare back at his brother. He wished he could do something about him, but at the moment the most urgent thing was to get Logan home. He took off, running fast, praying he could get there in time.   
“Patton!” He slammed the door open, scanning the room desperately, out of breath and shaking from exertion. He’d run a long way and Logan wasn’t as light as he looked. Patton popped his head in from the kitchen, about to say hello, but the words died on his lips as he saw Logan.   
“Come on.” He said, voice dry, darting out of the kitchen and through the main room the door opened into, Roman following into the back room. A large table sat in the middle of the room, shelves and cupboards lining the walls, stuffed full of dried herbs and potions, supplies and pestles. Everything a practicing healer could need to brew potions. Along with a little magic, of course.  
“Put him there.” Patton said, digging through the cupboards, pointing to the table. Roman carefully laid Logan down on his side, wincing at the two crossbow bolts piercing through his chest, one dangerously close to his heart. Already blood was leaking onto the table, his breath becoming more and more sporadic.   
“Patton…” Roman said warningly, begging him to hurry.   
“I know.” He bustled over, placing a mortar on the table, filled with a greenish paste. A healing salve, Roman guessed. “I’m going to do his leg first. Once we pull those arrows out, he’s going to lose a lot of blood, no matter how fast I am. Roman… I don’t… he might…” Patton trailed off, but Roman knew, from the look in his eyes, he knew.   
“Don’t say that. Don’t tell me that. Don’t- “Roman broke off, stalking away across the room, before spinning and pacing back, hands clutching his hair, eyes wide. “He can make it. He has to make it.”   
“I’ll do everything I can. You know I will.” Patton replied, already finished sewing up the ugly wound in his right leg, just above his ankle. He was lucky, it hadn’t crushed his bone. He applied some of the salve, imbued with his magic, to help it heal faster and to be sure no infection would set in, then he bound it.   
“I’ll need you to pull out the arrows, Roman. One at a time, to minimize risk. Ok?” Patton asked, voice trembling despite his best attempts at keeping it even. He’d treated hundreds of patients, both human and animals, but he’d never been as scared of losing a patient as he was now.   
“Ok. Ok, I can do that.” Roman breathed out, eyes hardening with determination. He placed a hand on the shaft of the arrow lowest in Virgil’s chest, as close to his flesh as he could. He looked at Patton for confirmation. He nodded, and Roman yanked, grimacing at the squishy sound, at the spasm that wracked Logan’s body, the pained whine that escaped his lips, the small tremors that could still be seen. Blood began to flow, drenching the table, the rest of Logan’s clothes. Patton had his eyes closed, a soft blue glow emanating from his hands, and slowly, too slowly, the wound closed up, leaving only deep violet bruising around the wound.   
“Next one.” Patton said, gripping the table hard. Roman could see the exhaustion starting to show on his face, but saw too the determination. Roman nodded, and with a sharp jerk, the second arrow came out. Once again Patton’s hands glowed blue, magic closing the wound. The light wavered, then Patton slumped to the floor.   
“Pat!” Roman cried, dropping with him. Patton smiled up at him, shaking his head.   
“I’m fine. Just… just tired. Those arrows did a lot of internal damage. Tore through… a lot of muscle and went deep. Barbed, so pulling ‘em out did… did more damage too.” He reached up and placed a hand on the table, the entire thing emanating light, and slowly all the blood was leeched away, vanishing, leaving only Logan, pale and still. Roman stood, placing a hand against his wrist, nearly collapsing himself when he felt a pulse.   
“Take him to bed, I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna recharge for a moment. Keep an eye on him, ok?” Patton said, voice already sounding stronger, reassuring Roman that he was telling the truth. Carefully, he scooped up Logan, giving Pat one last small smile as he left the room, heading upstairs to Logan’s room.

It was fire. He’d never felt anything like it, it was fire shot through his chest, into his blood, and he wanted to scream until his throat was torn to shreds, but he couldn’t make a sound. The pain dulled for a moment, and he almost felt relief, then another inferno blasted into his chest, and he wheezed, unable to move his limbs, to escape.   
He waited for another blast of heat, another searing flash of pain, but mercifully it didn’t come. Instead he felt coolness wash through his veins, and suddenly it wasn’t quite so hard to breath, suddenly there weren’t weights on his chest, suddenly he could almost manage to struggle awake. He tried to move, and gasped, feeling pain lance through him, like a cold shock of water.   
“Logan, no, don’t move, it’s ok. It’s ok, love.” He felt fingers running through his hair, the voice soothing him, filling him with a feeling of safety. He felt a cup held to his lips, and he drank carefully. He was desperately parched, but he knew drinking too fast could be detrimental to healing, and even in his muddled state he knew that’s what had happened. He realized now the pain must have been Patton’s healing. Crossbow. He remembered that now.   
“Silver.” He rasped out, barely a whisper. He felt the heat of Roman, leaning forwards.   
“What was that?”   
“Arrow. Silver.” Roman got it then and cursed, dropping his head into his hands.   
“Of course he would. He would know silver would weaken you.” He reached out a hand, feeling Logan’s forehead. It was slightly hot, slightly feverish, but it didn’t seem too bad. Hopefully the silver had only drained his strength, not infected him.   
“I’ll keep an eye on it, Lo. Make sure it doesn’t get worse.” Roman replied, pulling himself together. He felt a hand on his arm, and looked down to see Logan’s dark circled eyes looking up at him, his usually unreal brilliant green eyes a muddy brown.  
Roman hesitated a moment, but Logan’s eyes were kind and insistent, and Roman didn’t care anymore. He let out a sob and fell into bed next to Logan, carefully pulling him close, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist and nestling his head against his neck, feeling the tears roll down his cheeks, dripping onto the pillow behind them and Logan’s shirt.   
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, breathing in Logan’s scent of pine woods and warm grass, closing his eyes, reassuring himself with each beat of Logan’s pulse. “I should have seen the signs, I should have known he’d been hunting here.” In response Logan let out a small noise of disagreement, shifting back slightly so they were face to face, resting his forehead against Roman’s.   
“not your fault. Should have been more careful.” Logan replied, voice hoarse, but better than it had been minutes before. Before Roman could reply, Logan tucked his head down against Roman’s chest, eyes fluttering shut.

Patton finally got up from where he was sitting on the floor, noticing it was now dark outside. He must have drifted off. It generally didn’t take this much out of him to heal someone, but Logan’s wounds had been worryingly severe. He headed upstairs, looking to check in on him.   
He cracked open the door quietly, peeking in. At first, he couldn’t even spot Logan, Roman was curled so tightly around him, as if shielding him from the world with his own body. It had been a close call today, and it relieved him that they both were actually resting. He didn’t know what had happened, both been in too much of a tizzy to ask.  
Patton startled at a light knocking, one he realized wasn’t coming from the door downstairs, but from his room across the hall. He closed the door behind him and opened his, frowning as he saw a winged figure tapping impatiently at the glass. He huffed, pulling open the window, and the figure tucked his wings, doing a graceful roll on the floor to come up standing.   
“Bout time, I swear I tried every entrance in this place.” He muttered, fluffing his raven dark, falcon shaped wings before resettling them, tucking them back and pushing back his unruly, purple tinged hair.   
“We’ve been a bit preoccupied Virgil.” Patton replied sternly, and Virgil’s already near black eyes darkened further.   
“That’s what I’m here about. I got the news from some other Fae. They didn’t know specifics, of course, but a Wolf being attacked this close… it was Logan, wasn’t it? Is he-“ He bit back the words, unable to say them, to contemplate them.   
“He’ll be fine, Virg. It’ll take a bit, but he’s gonna be ok.” Patton replied, softening a bit. Virgil didn’t like to show it, part of being an Unseelie fae, he supposed, part of the Dark Court. Kindness and warmth were seen as a weakness, and cruelty and power were the rule of law.   
“Good. That’s… that’s good. Second thing then, who did this?” There was something dangerous to his voice when he asked that question, and Patton could see the darkness spiraling up his arms, an almost iridescent aura Virgil gave off when his emotions were heightened or he was about to use magic.  
“I don’t know.” Virgil’s incredulous eyes met his.  
“You don’t know? Come on Patton, you’re gonna have to do a little better than that.” His voice was dark, honey coated, the kind of charm a serpent has before it strikes, and Patton shivered, remembering again just how outmatched he was when it came to Virgil. Just as quick as it came, the darkness was gone, and Virgil was taking a staggered step back, folding his arms tight around himself to keep his hands from shaking.   
“sorry. I’m... didn’t mean to do that.” His voice was soft, and he looked down at the ground, biting his lip. “I didn’t mean to do that.” He repeated, almost a whisper, something almost hollow in his eyes.  
Patton knew Virgil hated his powers, hated using them. There was the normal fae stuff, like glamour, magical disguises, and minor charms and other spells any mage could do. Those Virgil would use, no problem. But then there were powers specific to the courts, specific to families in them.  
It was almost mind control. A way of speaking, a tone of voice, imbued with power that made the listener do whatever the speaker wanted, convinced them to go against their own survival instincts if desired. It could be used to provoke fear or hope or rage in someone who normally would feel none of those things, it could control the mind and everything it entailed.   
Patton was sure there was more to it, that it ran deeper than that, but Virgil never wanted to talk about it, and rarely ever used it at all, much less purposefully. Virgil had never told him why he had such an aversion to it, either, but he guessed it had something to do with why he left the court in the first place, as he was presumably from a rather high up family to have such a strong gift.   
“You’re worried. It’s ok. I am too. Do you wanna have a look at him, tomorrow? I did the best I could, but if we wanna get him back on his feet faster, I could use some extra power.” Patton offered, and Virgil nodded once, quickly, bangs falling back over his eyes.   
“Yeah. I can help with that. Yeah.” He turned to go, but Patton placed a hand on his shoulder.   
“You could stay, Virg. You know I- we- wouldn’t mind.” Virgil smiled back at him softly, something sad in his eyes.   
“I know. But I wanna make sure there aren’t any other ambushes or traps set up in the woods. I can scout it faster than you guys can, reach out to some… friends. If they caught any others…”   
“Logan would know if there were any around here. No packs are nearby.” Patton interjected.   
“Then a Hunter has no business being here, unless he’s not just hunting packs.” With that worrying statement, Virgil vanished back out the window, blending seamlessly into the night.


	2. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about Roman's past and how Logan got caught by Remus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! A bit shorter than the first, but here we go!

He was walking through the woods, on the way home from the market with a few groceries, a few supplies Patton had asked him to get while he was there, mostly dried herbs not native to the area. That was when he’d heard it. It was a low, keening howl, unmistakably a wolf in pain. The call came again, and Logan’s head swiveled towards the sound. That wasn’t an ordinary wolf. It was a Wolf, a human/wolf shifter, like Logan himself.   
That didn’t make sense. Wolves weren’t solitary. Generally, they belonged to different tribes or groups, called packs, usually led by an alpha pair, leadership being earned and not born into.   
Of course, Logan himself was a solitary, having gotten separated from his pack years earlier, in an incident he didn’t like to dwell on too much. He knew for a fact there were no other packs in the area, though. Of course, if the Wolf had been injured as badly as it sounded, it’s possible the pack had moved on without them. Regardless, he needed to help. He stored the grocery’s off the path beside a tree he could find later, and shifted.   
His wolf form had silver white fur, black circles around his eyes, similar to his glasses, and black sock markings on his feet and the tip of his tail. He was also slightly larger than a natural wolf, though that difference was rarely discernable. The Wolf would react better to another Wolf, instead of a human.   
He was a good way into the forest when the call came again, weaker, and he sped into a trot, now that he had a good sense of the direction. That was when he yelped, tumbling forwards, a sharp, burning pain in his right paw. He looked down at it, letting out a low growl, ears flat against his head as he saw he was caught in a trap.   
His ears swiveled as he heard a slight crunch from the trees behind him. He heard a twang, jerking forwards violently with a yowl as he felt the silver cut deep into him. The good news was he’d ripped his paw from the trap, and without a look back he bolted. He heard another arrow fire, but it missed, and he ran, letting out a desperate howl. He felt the terror pulse through him, slowed by each jarring step on his injured paw, aware of the footsteps, close, too close, behind him, and he was already starting to lag, starting to pant and foam flecked his mouth. He howled one more time, a desperate, keening sound, then liquid fire was in his veins and he lost consciousness.   
He bolted awake, chest heaving, inhaling sharply at the dagger that seemed to burrow into his chest. He was disoriented, unsure where he was, and he let out a low, rumbling growl from deep in his throat, baring his teeth, ready to fight, to tear, to rip and bite and scratch. A cornered, wounded animal was the most dangerous kind, and Logan was determined not to make himself the exception to that rule.  
“Logan?” His head snapped to that voice, eyes finally focusing on the sleepy, half awake, half alarmed tone. Chocolate eyes, sleep mussed brown hair, freckles across the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t move, he was afraid this was a dream, afraid he was imagining things, afraid all of this was a dying delusion created by his brain to soften the blow of losing his life. Roman reached out slowly, carefully, showing his hands the entire time, almost in a gesture of surrender. He placed a hand against Logan’s forehead, feeling nothing off in his temperature. He caressed his face, resting his hand against Logan’s cheek, eyes soft and warm as he leaned forwards, pressing his lips against Logan’s in a gentle kiss.   
He felt Logan’s breathing hitch, and pulled back, resting his forehead against Logan’s, keeping one hand against his cheek, resting the other against his waist. He felt Logan lean into his touch, letting out a long breath.   
“I’m here, Lo. It’s me. I’m here.” Roman murmured softly, Logan pulling back and looking at his face, into his eyes, before letting out another long breath.   
“I didn’t know if you’d heard me. I was still a fair distance from the house.” Logan said shakily, realizing Roman was slightly blurry because he wasn’t wearing his glasses.   
“I wasn’t sure you were going to wake up.” Roman replied, voice trembling as he rested his head atop Logan’s.   
“the hunter. he called you brother.” Logan stated quietly. Roman closed his eyes, a flood of regret washing over him.   
“Remus. My older brother, by five years. He was training me, to be a hunter, like our parents had been, before they were killed on the hunt, I don’t even remember them, really, I was so young. He raised me, just the two of us, always on the move. For the longest time I wanted to be just like him, thought he was brilliant and brave, going out and slaying monsters, keeping everyone safe, keeping what happened to our parents from happening to anyone else. He was my idol, my world. He had all these stories of grand adventures, it was everything I wanted to be.” Roman paused, Logan was so quiet and still, he’d almost thought he’d fallen back asleep.   
“So what happened?” Was the quiet prompt after a few seconds, and Roman let out a weary smile.   
“He took me on my first hunt. It was… well, it was brutal. It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, Logan. It was a vampire that Remus had sussed out the lair of, a small cave it had made into a kind of homey cottage, almost. We attacked at noon, and of course it wasn’t prepared, was terrified, he swore he hadn’t hurt any humans since he’d turned, had only hunted animals and never turned them, took only what he needed to survive, nothing more, and I believed him. He wasn’t lying. I said we should go, if he wasn’t hurting anyone, and Remus just grinned. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ he asked, and shoved the vampire out of the shade, into the sun. He screamed, he blistered, and stumbled back into the shade, but Remus just kept tossing him back out into the light, every time it managed to stumble or crawl or claw it’s way back into the shade, Remus threw him back into the light until he stopped moving altogether. Then he drove a stake through it’s heart, cut off it’s head, and set it on fire.” Roman broke off, burrowing his face farther into Logan’s hair, as if it’s softness could protect him from his memories, as if it could change the past and stop any of it from happening.   
“I ran away. I couldn’t… I didn’t realize what he was, until then. I’d been picturing him as a protector, rescuing people, putting monsters out of their misery, a knight in shining armor, but that’s not… He hadn’t been hurting anyone, anything, was minding his own business and Remus just tortured him for sport, enjoyed watching it shriek and scream and plead. That smile on his face, that look in his eyes… I’d never, never seen him like that before, hadn’t known he could be that cruel, was so… so twisted inside. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t anything other than what he claimed to hunt. I was thirteen. I left the next night, I couldn’t look at him, I could barely speak to him, everything I did, every choice I made after, I’ve made to become as different from him as possible. I want nothing, nothing to do with him.” He spat those last words furiously, realizing almost angrily tears were tracking down his face.   
“Oh Roman. Look at me.” Roman extricated himself from Logan’s hair, looking down at the softly smiling face of his beloved. “you are nothing like him. Despite the pregidous of your upbringing, I have never once seen you lash out against someone or somebeing different than you. You have always strived to protect those weaker or less advantaged than you. And most importantly, I love you. If anything proves you are different from your brother, from your family, it should be that you have earned every single bit of the utmost trust I place in you. And knowing what you come from only makes it that much more impressive that you earned it.” Logan replied firmly, making sure Roman heard his words, let them get through to his sometimes unbelievabley stubborn brain.   
“I don’t know how he found me again. I haven’t seen him since then, I’ve heard some stories, of course, but nothing that put him heading this way. He set that trap for you, Logan. We both know there aren’t any other Wolves near here. He would know it too.” Roman replied, shaking his head. “He meant to hurt you, specifically you, to try and hurt me. I can’t… if you’re not safe with me-“ Logan shushed him, resting a finger against his lips.   
“Neither of us is going anywhere. Splitting up would no doubt serve his purposes, if he does indeed wish to harm you, as it would leave both of us more vulnerable and distracted. Also, it’s just plain stupid.” Logan replied, making Roman laugh, which made Logan smile.   
“Alright, I’m being dramatic again, aren’t I?” He asked, pulling Logan closer, smile reaching his eyes now.   
“You could say that, yes.” Logan replied, grinning as he leaned up, kissing Roman soft and slow for a long moment, before sighing and resting his head against his chest once more. “still, I appreciate the sentiment behind it, Roman.” Logan murmured, eyes starting to drift closed once more, into a more restful sleep, now that he knew he was safe.   
“I know, love. Thank you.” He felt soft lips against his forehead before he slipped into a dreamless sleep, knowing he was safe in Roman’s arms.


	3. A familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil checks up on his friends, and is met with an unwelcome surprise.

Virgil made his way through the woods, jumping from branch to branch of the giant trees, using his wings to glide between them, pausing to whisper words that sounded almost like gusts of breeze. He cocked his head and listened, the trees rustling leaves in response, fireflies gathering around him before zooming off, reporting back one at a time.   
Once he’d made a large perimeter, he returned to his own small home. It was a treehouse built into a living oak, high up in the branches and disguised by leaves and a hint of glamour, keeping it hidden from prying eyes. He had an abundance of small alarm and protection spells around it as well, so that only he and people he marked would be able to see it. He granted no one but himself explicit entry.   
Despite these wards, he still looked back over his shoulder before shooting upwards to the door, placing a palm on it and muttering a word. The door shimmered for a moment before swinging open, and Virgil entered with a sigh of relief, closing it tight behind him. This was the only place he felt even a modicum of safety, and he knew that safety was precarious. The eyes he was most worried about finding him wouldn’t be long fooled by his glamour, and the most he’d get was a warning before the wards were torn to shreds. The thought had him clenching his fists tight, sucking in a sharp breath.   
He glanced around, just to make sure everything was still in place, hadn’t been touched. The table with one chair was in the middle of the room, a soft feather filled pallet pushed against the far wall covered with a quilt that made him smile, Patton having made it for him after once hearing how sparse his house was. He had one shelf with a few old books, a few notebooks of his own, a few knick knacks he’d picked up or been gifted by the others.   
He tried to keep their presence to a minimum, in the hope that if he ever was discovered here, it would seem like he’d simply stolen some objects he found curious, that it wouldn’t lay a path leading to them. He’d angered a lot of people, when he left the courts, and he would not have that anger levied against his friends.   
Friends. Just calling them that was dangerous, just going near them was dangerous, he wasn’t stupid enough to think no one was watching him, he had no doubt there were eyes on him, keeping tabs. He slid down against one wall, head in his hands, letting out a muffled groan.   
He was so tired of this. Of looking over his shoulder constantly, of living in fear of being noticed, or getting cared enough about to be dragged back to the courts. He was sick of the worry and the ever-gnawing paranoia. Not to mention it was nearly day break by now, and he’d been up all night.  
He hadn’t seen any other traps. He’d followed the fireflies to a few others, most of which could in theory catch Logan, but would be easy enough for him to get free of. Clearly set as snares for smaller prey animals or foxes, nearer the edges of the woods, where farms sat. That didn’t bode well to him, it confirmed what he’d said to Paton. Whoever had set it knew what Logan was, and where he’d be. It was set for Logan, and only Logan.   
He squeezed his eyes closed, folding tighter into himself, letting out a choked sob he pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to keep from losing total control, trying to contain the aura flickering around him like flames on a log. Just like sparks, they were looking for tinder to burn. Abruptly, he shot to his feet and slammed open the door, barely closing it behind him before he shot upwards, spiraling higher into the sky, needing to move, to feel wind screaming in his ears, to drown out his own mind.  
He dropped out of the sky, landing hard enough he jolted his legs enough they hurt. Before he could knock, the door was thrown open and Patton was there, eyes roving over Virgil.   
“What?” Virgil bit out, shoulders hunched, not meeting Patton’s eyes, as he so often didn’t.   
“Nothing! You just made a loud thump when you landed. I thought something might be wrong.” Virgil bit his lip guiltily.   
“sorry. I’m fine. Just came in a little hot. God, I’m glad Roman didn’t hear me say that.” He muttered, wry smile gracing his lips for a moment. Patton’s smile helped too, but it faded just as quickly as Virgil’s did.   
“You don’t look fine.” Patton replied after a moment, reaching out and tucking Virgil’s hair back, hand lingering for a moment as their eyes met, before he pulled away, flushing slightly. Virgil pretended not to notice, his own ears burning red.   
“I’ve been up.” Virgil shrugged, glancing towards the door. “Can I..?”   
“Oh, of course! Sorry, don’t know where my head’s at.” Patton exclaimed, stepping aside so Virgil could slip past him, into the house. His gaze swept over the shared living room, dark eyes glinting violet for a moment as he searched out every protection glyph he’d placed around the house, making sure they were all still intact, before swapping his attention to the sofa. Roman had one arm around Logan’s shoulder, one hand holding open a book he was reading aloud softly. Logan’s eyes were closed, head resting on Roman’s shoulder, but Virgil could tell from his face, the way his nose scrunched, a smile flitted across his lips as Roman read, that he was awake and listening. He jumped at a hand on his shoulder, looking over to see Patton quickly pulling away.   
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Patton said, his voice getting Roman’s attention, who’s eyes lit up as he spotted the fae.   
“Well look who stopped in! It’s our favorite little recluse!” Logan’s eyes cracked open and he readjusted his glasses.   
“hi.” Virgil replied, sliding onto the sofa beside Logan. He flashed him a small, worried glance, before taking his hand and closing his eyes. He breathed in, out, centering himself. Then he let his power flare.   
He could feel it, against his skin, the slick oiliness of his dark, shimmering magic. It felt like feathers brushing against his skin, and knew he was alit with opalescence.   
He let out another breath, letting it swirl into his hands, letting it envelop Logan as well, taking care that it was gentle, not the swirling inferno he had inside. He let it repair all the damaged tissue around Logan’s ankle, he healed the bruising on his chest, the hairline crack in a rib. He built back up Logan’s energy reserves, so he’d feel as if he’d never been injured at all. He was about to let go when he felt something else. His brow furrowed, and he followed the feeling, trying to place it.   
Darkness. Shadows moving through light. A shape, becoming clearer. At first, he thought it was Roman, but it wasn’t. It was someone a bit older, with the same profile, and he almost reached out. He felt a jolt of lightning and fell to his knees, the image shifting out of reach.   
“Did you think you could so easily abandon everything we ever wanted? Did you think I would simply let you walk away?” The voice hissing in his ears made his blood run cold.   
“I never wanted any of it. And you’re not here. This isn’t real.” He gasped, defiantly glaring up at the fae staring back down at him, a gilded masquerade mask of a crow hiding his face, but his eyes glowed like molten gold.   
“Please, you never said no to me. And physically I’m not here, no, but I knew you’d come to help your friend, and I made sure to leave a little tid bit for you to find.” Virgil hissed.   
“You leave them out of this.” The figure threw back his head and laughed, stepping closer.   
“So cute, Virgil. You think your pleas will help them? Please. No, what happened to your little wolf was just to get your attention. A warning, you might say. Things are in motion, things you can’t comprehend, things you will be on the wrong end of if you don’t. Come. Home.” Those last three words rang in his ears, and he grit his teeth, fighting the power of them, the sweep of longing and desire to do exactly that, to return home and everything it entailed, nostalgia for the past that he fought against, until with a last wrench of effort, he tossed it aside.   
“No.” He grit out, hissing again as the fae man grabbed his chin roughly, long nails digging into his flesh, forcing him to look directly into those bright slitted eyes, a cruel grin spreading across his face.   
“Then consider this your only warning. Stay. Out. Of. My. Way.” Each word sunk into his bones, into his skull, until his head was pounding with it, until he was nauseous from the unrelenting echo, and he was flung roughly away.   
“Run Corvian. Before I catch you, or your little friends.”   
His eyes snapped open, and he scrambled back, falling off the couch and onto the floor. He was aware of the other’s eyes on him, of concern on their faces, of Patton reaching out a hand to help him up, to ask him what was wrong. But his mind was a frenzy. Run. He had to run. He had to get as far away from here as he could, he had to leave before whatever Demarius had set in motion put them all at risk, if Logan was a warning, what would it be-   
He broke that train of thought, seeing it, knowing what it would be. Something terrible, something for the enjoyment of the court, something sporting that there was no winner to, no matter the odds. He’d seen the arena, he knew what they did, like puppeteers, pulling the strings of the fighters, who cared if a human lost an arm, or a leg, the fae didn’t feel the pain, or the fear, they reveled in it. Enjoyed toying with them like cats and mice. He imagined Logan, forced to shift, fighting Roman, desperately fighting the control, hand shaking on the hilt of his sword as he swung forwards. Patton, sweet, gentle Patton, blasting explosions of fire at Roman, burning him to ash, unable to do a thing to stop the voice whispering in his ear that he wanted this, he liked this, as tears dripped down his face.   
He was aware of them calling his name in more and more urgent tones, aware of the concern radiating off of them, aware of every noise, every rustle of fabric, every grain in the wooden floor, every mote of dust in the light of the sun, his senses snapped to an eleven. Run. He had to, had to, run.   
Without explanation, he bolted to his feet, barely touching the ground as he leapt out the door, wings already unfurled as he shot skywards. If falcon wings were good for one thing, one singular thing, it was speed. He glanced back once, barely able to make out their faces already, and he wrenched his gaze away, knowing if he looked back a second longer, he wouldn’t be able to leave.   
“I’m sorry. It’s not safe. I’m not safe. I’m sorry.” He whispered, knowing the wind would carry his message back to them. Back to Patton.

They stood out front of the house, watching the speck that was Virgil become smaller and smaller, speechless. His final message swirled around them before dissipating on the breeze, leaving Logan and Roman exchanging shocked glances, Patton wide eyed and reaching out, as if he could grab hold of the retreating fae.   
“What happened?” Roman asked, breaking Patton out of his shock.   
“I felt something, really strong magic, guys. It had the same… consistency, as Virgil’s. I think it was activated when his power touched you, Logan.”   
“Like a key to a lock. It’s clear the magic relayed some kind of message, enough to terrify Virgil. But that would mean the culprit knew I would be injured. Remus?” Logan asked, turning to Roman, who shook his head.   
“He doesn’t have any magic. Neither of us do. He wouldn’t learn even if he thought he could, would think it would corrupt him, somehow. No, he must be working in tandem with someone. No doubt a mercenary job, a chance to get paid, and a chance to get revenge.”   
“I’ve never seen him that scared.” Patton whispered, eyes searching the empty skies. Virgil was always flighty, a pun that made the fae roll his eyes, but still won a smile every time. He was always on edge, eyes always searching, always looking over his shoulder. He’d wondered a thousand times what had made Virgil that way, who had made him so afraid, and he had a terrible feeling that everything Virgil had feared had come to life today.   
“He’ll be ok, Pat.” Roman comforted, glancing back towards the woods as he followed Patton back inside, who seemed unconvinced. He’d felt the magic coming at Virgil, and felt his resolve harden. He pushed up his glasses and rolled up his sleeves, heading into the back room without another word, leaving a trail of determination in his wake.


	4. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil gets careless and Patton sets out to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a longer one, starting to get into the thick of it now.

Virgil landed outside the door, slamming it open without a second’s thought, grabbing his satchel off a hook near the door, stalking over to his shelf. He shoved one of his notebooks into it, a slim volume of old, compiled Fae knowledge. He hesitated over the small wood carvings. If he channeled a sliver of magic into them, they came to life. The wolf would howl, the horse would prance, the owl would turn his head. He grabbed the raven, which would caw and rustle its wings. Patton had made them all, whittled them and imbued them with some of his magic, so they worked. He wanted to take them all, to take the quilt, to just be able to stay.   
It was then he realized his mistake. The door had been open. He hadn’t checked his wards. He ducked at the gleam he caught in the corner of his eye, dodging a blow from a Morningstar coming straight at his head.   
He shot an unformed blast of magic out of his palm, sending it at his attacker, yelping as he rolled, narrowly dodging another swing. He caught sight of an amulet around the attacker’s neck which seemed to be absorbing the magic he’d launched.   
“Oh, you like it? A friend made it for me.” Virgil glared up at him, realizing with a shock that he looked almost like Roman. He had darker hair, a curled mustache, but the resemblance was shocking.   
“Demarius isn’t a friend to anyone.” He hissed, slowly getting to his feet, letting his power flare around him. It wouldn’t hurt him, but he could still use it to shield himself. The attacker chuckled.   
“Partner in crime, then. Allow me to introduce myself, Remus Astoria, at your service. Or rather, the object of your demise.” Remus gave a low, flourishing bow. Virgil snorted.   
“Figures Roman’s last name would sound so pretentious.” He replied dryly, not losing focus for a single second. He saw Remus’s hand tighten on his weapon as he rose, resting it on his shoulder.   
“Roman should be here by my side, rising up in the world, instead of fraternizing with Wolves and mages. Still, I have faith. He’ll come around to my side of things.” With a wicked grin, Remus thrust his hand forward, sharp metal thorns shooting out of his palm at Virgil, who hardened his power into a shield as he leapt aside, sending a concussive blast of air at Remus, who went flying backwards into the far wall. His amulet could absorb any direct magical attacks, sure, but nothing that didn’t target him in the form of magic.   
He stumbled back as one of the metal shards clipped his wing, feeling the slow burn of it. Iron. He threw up a shield as another spray of metal flew at him, piercing through his magic as if it weren’t even there. He gasped, vision flaring white as he felt the corrosive power eat into his skin. Another bolt of shrapnel pinned his wing to the wall, seeing stars.  
He didn’t notice Remus quietly advancing until the mace was swinging at his head, knocking him dizzy to his knees, the metal ripping up his wing as he fell, still pinning him tight.  
“Gotta say, you put up much more a fight than that pathetic little wolf. I’m almost impressed.”   
“kill me then.” He spat out, unable to force himself up, barely hanging on to awareness. Those so familiar, yet so cold brown eyes met his.   
“Oh, I don’t know. I can think of a few more interesting alternatives to that suggestion.” He held the amulet before him, golden light flaring to life inside the center. It hypnotized him, and he felt his strength draining, felt his magic being pulled out of him, threads burrowing under his skin, and he screamed.

It was dark when Patton tried to sneak out the front door. He’d holed himself up in the work room for the rest of the day, preparing any spells he might need, any healing items he could possibly think of a use for, waiting for the others to go to bed. Eventually, he heard two pairs of footsteps heading up the stairs. He waited a few long minutes, before slipping out of the work room and closing the door. He made it to the front door. Then he heard the throat clear. Guiltily, he turned, summoning a small light to his palm, seeing Logan sitting cross legged on the couch.   
“Hey there, buddy. I thought you were already in bed.” Patton laughed nervously. Logan raised a brow.   
“I was until I realized it was uncharacteristic of you to be up so late. And you had been rather quiet all evening, which in itself is suspicious.” He replied evenly. “You’re going after Virgil, are you not?”   
“Logan-“ He held up a hand to stop Patton’s protest.   
“I’m not going to stop you. I just ask that in light of recent events, you take extra caution. Send a message immediately once you reach Virgil’s. Trust your instincts, Patton, and send a message immediately if something feels off.” Patton nodded once, opening the door. “Patton? Please… be careful.” 

He bit his lip to keep the scream lodged in his throat from escaping. He was determined not to give Remus the satisfaction of another scream, of showing any more pain or weakness than he could help.   
Remus had locked an iron collar around his neck, which burned at his skin, his wrists in iron cuffs behind his back, cutting off circulation to his hands. His one wing was pinned to the wall with metal, every twitch of his muscles making it bite deeper into the skin. He’d felt hands running softly over his wings, a noise of disgust, then he curled tight around his stomach at the white-hot agony searing through him as Remus snapped his right wing bone with ease, a third of the way up its length. Another snap found him biting his lip so hard it bled, a wave of nausea rolling over him. He gasped as his shoulder was wrenched back, jostling his broken wing painfully, feeling his shoulder dislocate from its socket.   
“Had enough yet, little birdy?” That cold voice whispered in his ear. Virgil hissed in response as Remus circled back around, examining his work.  
The room was littered with his raven dark feathers, which Remus had alternated between oh so carefully plucking one at a time, and violently ripping out entire handfuls.   
“Go to Hell.” Virgil rasped, trying so suppress the shudders running through him.   
“Hmm, maybe not then. Let’s try one more thing.” Virgil tried to struggle as Remus grabbed his chin, roughly turning his head to expose his neck.  
“Oh, relax. This won’t hurt… for long, anyway.” He felt a sharp prick and suddenly his every atom was afire, his every breath a struggle. “You like it? Liquid iron. I always wondered what would happen if I injected a fae with it. Never had the chance to test it on a Sidhe, of course. I expect you’ll last, oh, twenty minutes or so? You’re lucky. Any other fae I’d give three.” Virgil clawed at his neck, feeling as if his throat was closing up on him, he couldn’t get enough air. His vision was speckled with dark spots, and he slumped sideways, broken wing splayed under him. As the last of his vision faded away, he reached into his satchel, hand curling around worn wood. Then nothing, but endless searing heat.

Patton made his way through the ever taller trees, his little flame hovering above his head, roving through the trees with him and casting eerie shadows. He held tight to the straps of his back pack, humming softly to himself to try and ease his nerves. He generally wasn’t the biggest fan of the dark, and every rustle of animals in the underbrush, every call of night birds hunting set his hair on end and made him jump. He loved the woods during the day, the light filtering through the leaves, the cute animals running all over the place, sometimes he’d cajole Logan into playing fetch with him with a stick. At night everything just seemed more oppressive, and it was with great relief that he spotted Virgil’s treetop hut.  
“Virgil! Down here!!” He shouted, waving his hands over his head, trying to get his attention. He frowned, holding out his palm, forming a small, bouncing blue orb of light.   
“Virgil, I’m at the base of your tree. Either you come down here and talk to me or I’ll climb up there to you.” He threw the ball as high as he could, watching as it bounced off the branches, up and out of sight. He tapped his foot, waiting for the familiar swoop of wings, a dark halfhearted glare, a muttered “what?” but it didn’t come. He huffed out an impatient breath.   
“Ok. Doing this the hard way then.” He rubbed his hands together, approaching the lowest branch and scrambling onto it, working his way upwards. It wasn’t all that difficult to climb, the branches easily spaced for handholds, but the tree itself was huge. He was gasping by the time he flopped onto the final branch, rolling onto the small platform that counted as Virgil’s porch. He took a moment to catch his breath, avoiding looking down. He wasn’t usually afraid of heights, but this was high, and he didn’t want to risk the vertigo.   
“Virgil? You home?” He asked, one knock all it took for the door to swing open. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Virgil didn’t seem one to leave his door ajar, not with how he was always looking over his shoulder. Still, he stepped inside, his flame following behind.   
He heard a strange sound as he took a step, almost like he was walking on a bed of leaves. At first, that’s what he thought they were, until he leaned down to pick one up, and his flame illuminated the floor in eerie blue light. Feathers. Shimmering, beautiful raven feathers. With a snap the room was bathed in light, the fireplace enchanted not to need fuel to burn burst to life, the four magic globe lights turning on.   
The one small shelf Virgil had was smashed to shreds, paper torn and scattered about it like confetti. Patton recognized the mangled and stomped forms of several of his carvings amongst the wreckage. It took him a moment to place Virgil, with all the feathers strewn about. When he did his hand flew to his mouth, and he stumbled to his knees at the fae man’s side.   
Droplets of blood formed a red sheen across his wing, where broken nibs dug into the skin, or where feathers had been torn out completely, entire patches of wing bare and torn, pinned to the wall like a butterfly in a collector’s case. He let out a strangled cry when he saw the state of the other wing, spread awkwardly across the floor, disjointed and brutally snapped in two places, the bone poking out through the skin at one of the breaks, his shoulder painfully dislocated.   
Worst of all, was the thick iron band clamped around his neck, so tight it seemed he could barely breath. Patton placed a finger on it, and within moments the metal snapped, and Patton gently removed it from Virgil, hurling it as far as he could across the room, doing the same to the cuffs that bound his hands.   
Carefully, he felt through Virgil’s wing, pulling out the metal holding it in place. Virgil struggling had caused them to tear the wing, leaving bloody wounds that oozed dark ichor. He held the wing in his arms as he removed each piece, so it wouldn’t snag and tear as more weight was put on the others shards, carefully lowering it to floor. Iron, Patton realized, that’s what they’d been made of. It was infecting him. But now that it was out, he should be able to recover.  
Still, the fae was barely breathing, Patton could hear him faintly wheezing in effortful breaths that barely moved his chest, exhaling with just as much difficulty, as if choking on something. He reached out a hand, feeling Virgil’s forehead burning with heat. He choked back another sob, trying to think, to keep his head on straight.  
How would Logan think? Ok. He was clearly sick, having trouble breathing even though the object seemingly restricting his airway had been removed, and so had the other sources of metal. That meant there was another cause. He remembered suddenly patients rushing in, supporting or carrying a loved one, usually a child, wheezing for air, after getting into something they hadn’t known they were allergic to yet. Allergy, it was anaphylaxes, what was he allergic to? Iron, of course, but he’d already removed all the iron touching him! Think, think, think, think-   
He got it. Just like that. He scrambled for his backpack, pulling out a bottle filled with a pure, clear substance. He uncorked it, placing it on the ground next to Virgil, usually this would work best in a casting circle, to heighten the magic, make it easier to do solo, but he didn’t have time. Instead he focused, eyes starting to glow, then to burn brilliant blue as he chanted the incantation, watching the liquid slowly turn from clear, to cloudy, to gray, to pitch black, barely visible particles drifting out of Virgil’s wounds, drawn into the bottle. A final word and he pitched forwards, a wave of exhaustion washing over him as he caught himself with a hand against the floor for balance. In a moment he was already feeling better, sometimes it just took a second after a spell to rebalance. That should have siphoned all the iron out of his system.  
Virgil wasn’t breathing. When was the last time he’d taken a breath? Had it been before the spell, or after? He didn’t know, how was he not paying attention, how could he not know?   
“please virg. Please.” He whispered, feeling tears building in his eyes. He reached out, to take Virgil’s hand in his, surprised to find it gripped tightly around something. Carefully, he pulled open Virgil’s fingers, sob wrenching its way from his throat.   
“The Raven.” He stroked its head, squeezing Virgil’s hand in his, realizing that it had come from his satchel, that he must have grabbed onto it at some point. “You were going to leave. You were going to leave and you were taking it with you.” His voice shook, and with a small drop of power, the Raven shook out its wings, giving a raucous caw. “I almost kept that one. Because it reminded me of you. So I could pretend that you were there with me, that you’d taken my invitation to stay for once. But you needed a friend more than I did. You needed to know you were loved, so maybe you could feel a little less scared.” Tears were dripping down his face as he set down the figurine, carefully maneuvering Virgil onto his lap, cradling the fae’s limp body against his, pressing his lips to Virgil’s forehead for a long, endless moment.   
“I love you, virgil. Please. Please, let me get to say it to you, please let me look you in the eyes and tell you, please let me have the chance to have something with you, please…” He broke off, voice cracking as he closed his eyes, resting his head against Virgil’s chest, thinking of all the times he’d tried to say it, all the times he thought they’d gotten somewhere just for Virgil to pull back, fear flitting across his face, that last day when he’d reached out, tucked his violet hair behind his ear, been allowed his fingertips to graze his cheek.   
He registered movement, at first thinking it was simply his imagination, clinging to any hope. But he felt it again, steady. He gasped, raising his head, watching Virgil inhale and exhale shakily, breaths still ragged, but no longer wheezing. His nose scrunched up, and as Patton watched, Virgil opened his eyes, unfocused and glazed with pain. Still, they seemed to gain some brightness, some sharpness when he focused on Patton.   
“Hey there.” Patton murmured, unable to summon more words through his relief.   
“pat” Virgil managed, voice barely a breathy whisper, leaning against Patton’s warmth, the careful arms around him. “what’re you doin here?” He mumbled.  
“I’m gonna get you all taken care of, ok? You don’t… don’t worry about a thing.” Patton replied, voice shaking, as he watched Virgil slip back into unconsciousness. Patton gave himself one more moment to compose himself, then he gently lay Virgil back on the floor and rolled up his sleeves. Time to get to work.   
Funnily, the easiest thing to fix was his broken wing. All Patton had to do was carefully set the bone, then fuse it back together, a much easier task on Virgil than on any human, since they were hollow.   
The skin around his throat was blistered and burned from contact with iron. His wrists were a similar story, but the cuffs there had dug into his skin, rubbing them red and raw. He applied salve to both, carefully binding them loosely, so they wouldn’t rub against anything. He used magic to make sure the wounds from shrapnel were totally free of any last iron debris, then closed them up, applying some healing salve after, to help relieve the pain.  
There was a large bump and bruise on the side of Virgil’s head, like he’d been hit there with something, and he did what he could to soothe that injury as well, though if he’d gotten a concussion, there wasn’t much he could do to help with that.   
The feathers… he wished he could do something about the feathers. All he could do was go over the wings with burning focus, carefully preening them, removing any snapped or broken nibs, carefully sliding loose feathers back into place, try to ignore how much Virgil was shaking, every soft, careful movement of his fingers sending a shiver through Virgil, whom he’d wrapped in the quilt and moved carefully closer to the fire. That’s what took the longest and the most effort, combing through his wings over and over, making sure he got them all out, otherwise the new feathers wouldn’t grow in correctly, or he could wind up getting an infection. When he was sure he’d pulled them all, he heated up some water, carefully wiping down the wings with it, shushing Virgil as they instinctively tried to flutter, to get away from the stinging pain. Then he ran a hand over them both once more, infusing some magic into them, to help the feathers come in quicker.   
Then there was the shoulder. He had enough strength to pull it back into its socket, but he didn’t know if he had the will to, knowing how much it would hurt. But if he left it, it would do more harm than good. He sighed, positioning himself against the wall for leverage, hands on Virgil’s shoulder. A sharp wrench up and Virgil let out a hoarse scream, wings buffeting Patton backwards as they flapped weakly against the floor.   
“I’m sorry, I know, I know sweetie, I’m sorry.” Patton soothed, once again kneeling at Virgil’s side, seeing those glassy eyes open, but unfocused. “It’s over now, it’s ok. That’s the last thing I had to do. You’re ok.” Patton promised, running a hand through Virgil’s hair, heat emanating from his forehead in worrying amounts, stroking his cheek, surprised when Virgil turned his head, nuzzling against his hand.   
“Patton.” His heart stuttered at Virgil’s voice, low and weak as it was, saying his name. It contained such relief, such huge warmth. “did you call ‘m sweetie?” Was his groggy question, and Patton laughed.   
“Just slipped out.” Virgil’s eyes drifted closed again.   
“s nice. Kinda liked it.” He mumbled sleepily, feeling himself being gathered up by Patton, being held close to his chest, and he snuggled tight against that warmth, shivering, that sense of safety and pure love, as once again the world faded out.


	5. Revelations and Recoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Logan catch up to Patton, and we learn a bit about Virgil's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, but I didn't want to split it, so enjoy!

“You let him go alone!?” Roman was pacing the floor, glaring at Logan who sat on the couch. “With Remus out there, you let Patton wander into the woods alone at night!?”   
“Patton was not wandering, he knew exactly where his destination was located. He is also a highly competent mage, and while he does use his power mostly for healing, you forget that he is more than capable of defending himself.” Logan replied evenly.   
“If everything is so fine, why hasn’t he contacted you yet? You told him to send a message as soon as he got there.” Logan lowered his eyes, readjusting his glasses.   
“I know.” Logan said quietly, and Roman paused in his pacing, softening.   
“I know he’s an adult, it’s not like you could forbid him for going out. But we haven’t heard anything, we need to go looking for him and we need to assume something has gone wrong. Maybe he just got turned around.” Roman said, reaching out and taking Logan’s hands in his.   
“I’ll track him, if you keep on guard.” Logan said, not meeting Roman’s eyes.   
“I’ve got your back, Lo. Always.” A soft kiss, and then Roman hurried to his room to grab his gear, smiling as he heard the sound of padded feet on wooden floors.

Patton woke, at first not sure what had startled him out of sleep. He hadn’t been aware he’d even fallen asleep, in the first place. He’d pulled Virgil’s pallet as close to the fire as he could, had tried to lay Virgil down on it, but the fae wouldn’t have it. Instead, he’d sat down on the pallet, cradling Virgil in his arms, stroking his hair, brushing his cheek, squeezing his hand, humming and talking softly to him while dabbing at his forehead with a damp cloth, trying to get his fever under control. He was burning up on heat, levels that would be dangerously high to a human, Patton knew the damage fevers could do, the brain damage that could result, but there was little his magic could do against it.   
He’d gotten Virgil to drink some water, not a lot, not nearly enough, but it was better than nothing. He hadn’t been lucid again, mumbling in his uneasy sleep, crying out at things Patton couldn’t see, things that weren’t there, afraid.   
He heard a howl, realizing now that’s what had woken him, that familiar call. Logan. He summoned a ball of light to each hand, throwing one out the door, lifting the other to eye level.   
“Are you sure this is right?” He heard Roman asking. Logan cleared his throat, having just shifted back to human.   
“Yes. Look.” He caught the ball as it fell from the last branch, holding it before the two of them. Looking into it, they saw Patton, and Patton could see them.   
“Guys? What time is it? I said I’d call.” Roman let out a frustrated sound.   
“Yeah, and that was a day ago! Do you know how worried I was, Pat?”   
“What? No, it’s still night, I’ve only been gone a few hours.” Roman huffed, throwing up his hands, and Logan answered.   
“You’ve been gone nearly a whole day, Patton. You were supposed to send a message confirming your safety as soon as you got here. What happened?”   
“Yes, what indeed?” Roman thundered, his fear giving way to anger that he’d been worried this whole time when Patton was safe and sound. Patton opened his mouth to give a sheepish reply, pausing as they all heard a small whimper. Patton grabbed a cloth from beside him, setting the globe floating in the air, giving them a wider perspective of the room.   
Virgil was having a fit of shakes, tremors wracking his body as his teeth chattered, though he was running an incredibly high fever. Carefully, he infused some more power into Virgil, shushing him, trying to wrap him tighter in the quilt, bring him closer to the fire without burning him.   
It was the iron, Patton knew. Just touching iron burned fae, though the stronger the faerie, the less effect it had. A weaker fae wouldn’t have withstood even the cuffs Virgil had been in, much less the collar. To be injected directly with iron, as surely must have happened, for the amount of particles removed by the spell, would wreak havoc on any fae.   
Any other fae would be dead now. By all rights, Virgil should be dead now, and Patton could feel him growing weaker by the hour. He may have purged all the iron from his system, but it had still done who knows how much damage, damage Virgil’s overworked and overtired body didn’t have the strength to heal.   
It didn’t help that he seemed unable to generate any magic at the moment, a thing that even the tiniest fae child had more of than a full human wizard. It was woven into their very being, an intricale part of them, and Patton was feeding him all the power he could to try and keep him going. He hugged Virgil tighter to himself, careful of his shoulder, gently infusing more strength into his wings, into his heart. It was all he could do. Just give Virgil the strength he needed to keep fighting, and hope against hope he somehow won.   
His gaze shifted back to the orb hovering in the air, displaying Logan and Roman’s stricken faces. Logan’s eyes widened in sympathy, Roman’s with anger as he searched through the trees, as if the culprit were still near.   
“it wasn’t a trap for me. It was a trap for him.” Logan said softly, mind whirring. “I was a means to an end. They wanted to send Virgil a message, and they knew hurting me would bring him out and make him afraid, as well as trigger whatever magic they imbedded for him to find.”   
“Remus.” Roman growled, voice so full of hate it made Patton shiver.   
“Directly, yes, but under whose orders?” Logan asked. “We don’t know anything about his past, besides he was a member of the Dark Court, in a family of high rank. We don’t have enough information to go after someone, Roman.” Logan replied, slipping his hand into the warrior’s. Roman looked like he was going to argue for a moment, before sighing, shaking his head.   
“You’re right. Patton, what do you need?” 

The Unseelie Court. It was a dark, cold place. False smiles hid sharp teeth, ready to rip into at the slightest hint of weakness. They toyed with mortals like their lives were nothing but a game for their entertainment, enjoyed bringing misery and suffering to their kind.  
Virgil had been young then, but he’d already known the nature of their fae, of their kind. Of his people. Of course, no one payed much attention to him, he kept out of everybody’s way. Didn’t meet their eyes, didn’t mingle more than he had to, made himself seem small and harmless, so he’d be left alone.   
“Corvian, good to see you!” He winced, being caught one step outside his door by the person he least wanted to be seen by.   
“Dee, what do you want?” He asked with a sigh, turning to face the masked fae.   
“Who says I want anything?” He asked, eyes gleaming. Virgil rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.   
“Because when else do you care?” He muttered, not loud enough for him to hear, instead giving him a withering stare. He raised his hands placatingly.   
“Okay, okay, so maybe I have a favor to ask. Could you give up your hermitage for one night? There’s starting to be talk, that maybe you’re not up to snuff.”   
“Good. We both know I don’t want that. And you’re in line anyway, and no one’s stupid enough to try and take you on.” His eyes narrowed and Virgil’s breath hitched, knowing what was coming next.  
“I’m your reagent. There’s a difference. Reputation is at stake, Virgil, dear, and if you’re the weak link… well. They won’t hesitate.” Virgil’s shrugged shoulders hunched higher, Demarius casually examining his nails.  
“You will come tonight, Virgil.” That wash of need, desire to do what he was told crashed over him, pounding at his temple.   
“Fine.” He bit out.   
“See? I knew you’d come around. About time you got out and had some fun, anyways. Ciao.” He waved as he turned, Virgil slinking into his room, repressing the urge to scream into his pillow.  
He was a disappointment, and he knew it. Demarius had been his guardian since he was a child, ruling the court in his stead until he was old enough, but he’d never felt like a father. He’d always been cold and conniving, using his power to get what he wanted from whoever he wanted, holding tight to that control. Virgil was just a puppet in his game, and he knew it.   
Demarius wanted him to be something great, to use and thrive with his magic, to channel it and build it until he was unstoppable, and could take over ruling the Unseelie, the Seelie, the world, everything. He wanted none of it. He didn’t have any ambition, any desire to engage in the cruelties that would ensure his position, he simply wanted to be left alone. The only reason Dee cared enough to make sure Virgil wasn’t torn apart, is that then he would never have control of the throne.  
This is what he was thinking when they took their seats in the arena balcony, Dee talking and joking and flashing deadly smiles at the other court fae, Virgil trying to restrain himself from flying away. His breath was caught in his throat, and he felt like the world around him was closing in. Too many faeries, too many eyes on him, too much pressure and envy levied against him in those crocodile smiles. He kept his gaze even, his stride steady, his chin up, pretending all the confidence he didn’t have. To do otherwise would be suicide and then surely the infighting would lead someone worse to wear the crown.   
The first rounds he could handle. They were terrible, wolves fighting against bobcats, tearing each other to shreds even after they’d died, the puppet like strings of magic tethered to their limbs controlling them, the winner only announced once one of the animals was incapable of any movement.   
Then there were the other fae. Members of the Seelie court, the court of light, that had wandered too far out of their territory, criminals that had “wronged” one of the Sidhe, the nobles, in some way, you could see them fighting against the wills controlling them, people betting on which one would break free and for how long. It was never long enough to do anything, just to scream, plead, try and get free of the arena. Virgil was biting his lip, trying not to sink into his chair, feeling Dee’s sharp eyes on him, warning.   
Then the final round. He let himself relax, he was almost through, he could go hide in his room another day and Dee would be satisfied with his appearance for a few, long enough to try and forget all about this. Then he saw the fighter.   
It was a boy, a kid, ten, he’d guess. His eyes were filled with fear as he looked around the jeering crowd, trembling as they led in his competitor. It was a snarling, feral thing, a bear that had been enchanted with rage, foaming at the mouth and roaring. No one puppeteered them. They wanted to watch him get torn to shreds.   
The kid dodged an angry first charge from the bear, narrowly avoiding getting swiped by its huge paws. He threw out his hands, vines shooting up from the earth, entangling the bear for a moment. Virgil was gripping the arms of his chair with white knuckles, unable to look away. The child’s eyes met his for a pleading moment, before the bear charged once more, this time slamming him with his paws, sending him flying across the arena, tumbling head over heels to a rough stop. The kid groaned, pushing himself to his knees, weak fire flickering to life in his hands. He threw them, but the bear simply shook them off, the smell of singed fur tainting the stands. In a moment the bear would be on him, there was nothing to be done, his family wouldn’t even know what had happened-   
He was aware of Dee laughing, commenting on the child’s pitiful use of magic, of the crowd cheering as the bear approached, of the terror pulsing from the arena. Then Virgil was on his feet, faster than he could register his own movement, faster than Dee could stop him, he was on his feet and in the air, swooping down into the arena. He landed before the boy, wings spread to block him from harm, dark fire flaring up his arms as his eyes blazed violet. A long moment of silence passed, the only thing he was aware of was the panicked breath behind him, his own determined, pounding heart and the panting breath of the bear as they locked eyes.   
“Don’t try me.” He growled, voice echoing and deep as he used his own magic, and after another long minute, the bear huffed, turning with a soft grumbling sound, laying down on the opposite side of the arena. Still blazing, his gaze found Demarius’s up in the balcony. He was standing now, face a cross of disbelief and fury, radiating wrath he could feel from the ground. Still, he straightened his stance, met his glare, a snarl on his face.   
“Enough. I’ve had Enough.” He said, loudly, clearly, turning away to crouch down before the kid, who was shaking, stumbled back at his gaze.   
“hey, easy there. I’m not gonna hurt you, ok? I’m gonna get you out of here. But I need you to trust me.” He held out his hand slowly, letting the magic slip from his form, give a small smile. Hesitantly, the kid took his hand with a small nod.   
“Ok. I’m gonna fly us out of here, so hold on tight to me. Try not to pull on the feathers too much.” He scooped the kid up, who wrapped his hands behind his neck, then spiraled up into the air without another word or backwards glance. But he could feel the eyes on him, burning into him, the whisper in his mind of Demarius, who would never let him go, not after this.  
He set down on the outskirts of the village, just out of sight of anyone in the town, carefully extricating the boy from his arms, setting him and his wobbly legs on the ground. Luckily, the boy had known the name of the town, and was able to direct Virgil via landmarks.   
“You alright?” He asked, getting a nod and an enthusiastic smile from the boy. Virgil let out a long breath.   
“Good. Don’t wander off again, ok? Keep something iron on you all the time, a nail in the pocket and they won’t be able to touch you. Iron horseshoe above the doorway and they won’t be able to enter.” He was about to take off again when he felt a soft tug on his wings. He looked back to see the kid pulling his hand away sheepishly.   
“Sorry. I just wanted to say thanks. For not letting me get eaten. Are you gonna get in trouble for it?” Virgil swallowed the hysterical laughter that bubbled in him at that question, he was in so much trouble, but he just shook his head.   
“Nah. I’ll be alright. And here, just a little something in case you ever need help again.” He carefully removed a feather that was lose anyway, roughly the length of the kid’s hand, and passed it to him. “Hopefully you won’t need it.” He gave a little salute then shot up into the air with a fancy loop, smiling at the kid’s exclamation of “whoaaaa” behind him. Then his smile faded and he flew, far and fast.   
Day turned to night, turned to day, turned to night, and he was still flying, as fast as he could. His muscles ached from it, his wings cramped and stiff, and he found himself jerking up out of dives, having fallen asleep midair.  
Around dawn, he found himself drifting off again, his wings wobbling unsteadily as they failed to catch enough air, and he felt himself spiraling downwards, but he didn’t have the strength to stop. He veered to the left, slowing his fall as best he could as he spiraled downwards.  
He broke through twigs, bouncing off branches, feeling them whip his face and arms, until he landed on his back on the forest floor with a muffled groan, the wind knocked out of him. He felt footsteps approaching, a surprised gasp, a shadow across his face, then the world went dark.  
Patton. Patton had seen him, falling, and chased after him, finding him moments after he crashed, exhausted and bruised, unable to stay awake a moment longer. He’d brought him home, gotten to know him as much as Virgil would allow, in turn learning all about Patton and his housemates.   
Logan, the analytical lone Wolf, who’d been saved when he was left behind by his pack by Roman. Roman, who was an ex warrior of some sort, handy with weaponry of any kind but also a lover of the arts. Patton, healer and mage, kind hearted and sweet. Apparently, this household had a habit of rescuing and rehabilitating misfits.   
They accepted him so easily, his dark strangeness, his almost muteness, his aversion to touch, to his own magic. His random, spiraling panic, jumping at shadows, at a flick of movement out of the corner of his eye that sent his magic blazing, pulse racing, until Patton calmed him down, brought him out of it with happy stories, with murmured words. It was strange, and it took him so, so long, to realize that they weren’t biding their time, that wasn’t a hidden motive, that every kindness wasn’t expected to be repaid, that they were nice because that’s who they were, not because they wanted something. Warmth was something he’d had no context for.   
Warm. He was… he was warm. Where..? He remembered burning in his lungs, making it impossible to breathe, he remembered snapped bones and torn wings, he remembered panic, but not his own, someone else’s, who..?   
He struggled for a few long moments, managing finally to peel open his eyes, another long moment to place where he was. His house. But he wasn’t alone. Asleep together in a corner was Roman and Logan, Roman snoring slightly, a hint of drool on his cheek making Virgil smirk.   
He himself was wrapped in a blanket, wings carefully tucked against his back, curled up near the raging fireplace. Rolling over he caught his breath, seeing Patton asleep beside him, glasses askew and hair mussed, shivering slightly, having kicked off his blanket at some point.   
It came flooding back to him, then, what had happened. Remus, he’d been attacked by Remus, on Demarius’s orders. Patton had found him, had evidently taken care of him, based on how much less painful his wings felt, that searing heat gone from his veins. Virgil had no doubt if Patton had showed up later, all he would have found was his corpse. Dimly, he remembered gentle hands running through his wings, he remembered whispered words of comfort, he remembered Patton pleading with him to hang on, because he-   
Virgil’s breath caught and his eyes widened. No, he had to have been delusional, Patton couldn’t have said that, couldn’t have meant it, like that. He sat up, leaning against the warm wood next to the fireplace, running a hand through his hair.   
He focused as he heard Patton make a soft sound, stretch and yawn, eyes blinking open sleepily, meeting Virgil’s. With a gasp, Patton shot up, grin cracking across his face as he practically lunged at Virgil, throwing his arms around him and kissing him fiercely, desperately, surprising the fae so much he froze. Patton pulled back sheepishly, faces mere inches apart, face crimson.   
“Sorry. I just… I was so afraid and then… and you… and I never said… and-“ He was cut off as Virgil leaned forwards, capturing Patton’s lips with his own, soft and sweet for a long, endless moment. When they finally broke apart, Virgil was smiling softly, a rare, genuine smile, some of the always pervasive heaviness gone from his eyes.   
“I didn’t want to make you a target. I thought… but I wasn’t sure and I couldn’t put you in danger, if Dee knew he’d hurt you and then-“ He stopped, closing his eyes, swallowing his fear deep inside him. He felt Patton wrap his arms around him, pull him onto his lap. “You don’t understand what he could do to you. What he would make you do.” He whispered, taking a shuddering breath, head buried against Patton’s chest. “But I suppose he already knows. He’s making his moves, he’s made his ultimatum. I wouldn’t go back, and so he needed me out of the way, he’s a monster, Pat, and if he got his hands on you…”   
“Shh, shh, it’s ok. Nothing’s gonna happen to me, alright? I’m more worried about you right now. Your fever just broke a few hours ago. You need to take it slow. You need to breathe, ok?” Virgil nodded, focusing on the beat of Patton’s heart, slowing his breathing to match his, until they were in sync, until he could think clearly again. “Good. Now, tell me what happened, what this is all about. Who… who is Dee?”   
“You should wake the others. I tried to protect you by keeping you out of it, but clearly that’s not enough. And if I’m going to say it all… I don’t know if I can do it twice. I…” he broke off, looking away, that haunted look slipping back into his eyes.  
“Ok. But, Virgil, look at me.” Patton gently turned Virgil’s head, so their eyes met. “whatever it is, whatever your past, it doesn’t change this. It doesn’t change us.” Patton kissed him once, quick, then got up, shaking the others awake.   
“Wha- who- EN GUARDE!” Roman shouted drowsily, jumping to his feet, making Virgil snigger. Logan simply cracked open his eyes, one brow raised as he looked up at his beloved.   
“Dear, please.” Logan said dryly, straightening his glasses. Roman looked a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his head.   
“Sorry. I may be a little tense at the moment. Is everything all right, Pat?” He asked, calming down, now fully awake.   
“Heyo.” Virgil said, doing his little salute, two sets of eyes locking on him. He was suddenly drowning in questions from Logan, in exclamations from Roman on what he would do to his brother when he caught up to him, Patton trying to keep the two of them from overwhelming him. Finally, they all settled down, forming a half circle around the fireplace. Virgil let out a rough breath, shrinking slightly on the three sets of expectant eyes on him.   
“You know I was a dark fae. And you’ve guessed already I was a Sidhe, a noble. Yeah?” He asked, looking up from under his bangs.   
“That and that you are and were clearly afraid of something or someone is all we were able to surmise, yes.” Logan responded. Virgil nodded.   
“Ok. So, it’s a little more than that. I was, am, heir to the Unseelie court. My guardian was supposed to prepare me to rule, and to rule in my stead until I was old enough to take over. But I never… he never cared, about me. He cared about my position. About power. That’s all the court cares about.   
Demarius taught me how to use my power, how to exert control, how to make others believe that the cruelest deeds were just, that they enjoyed it. Or sometimes you’d take control but leave them aware, so they could feel the fear, so you could see the terror on their face as they fought against it. I didn’t want to, I hated it, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t say no.” He shuddered, pulling his knees to his chest.   
“He protected me because if I died on his watch, he would lose all status, he would have failed his duty and be punished for it. And I was useful to him. He knew he could control me, I would just be a puppet when I ruled, everyone knew it. I never wanted it anyway, I hardly cared who was in charge, I just wanted to be left alone. I hated them, how they reveled in fear and misery, how they would as soon smile at you as tear you to shreds, the way they toyed with mortals they caught in their grasp, the way I-“ He took another breath, trying to push away the images trying to surface in his mind.   
“But you left.” Was Patton’s small voice, the room deadly quiet, almost still as he talked. He let out a choked laugh.  
“Left. I could never leave. I could just run and pray I wasn’t enough of a nuisance to chase. The arena is what did it. They’d use their power to control animals, humans, mythicals, anyone that wandered into their territory. I could handle it, I could pretend I was somewhere else, I could hold my head high and act like I wanted to be there for long enough to please Demarius, then I’d be allowed to go back to my room.  
But there was a boy. A… a little kid, he was only ten, he had some magic, which is probably why he caught their eye. Human magic users aren’t that common, and that kid had a lot for his age. He was so brave, he was terrified, but he still tried to fight back, but he was going to get torn to pieces and in that moment I’d just… I’d had enough. I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t pretend, anymore.  
I defied Dee. I saved the kid. I humiliated him in front of the entire court, and I ran until I couldn’t run anymore, because I knew what I’d done was unforgivable to him. I’d shown kindness, weakness, I was a failure, I was worse than a failure, I was a threat. If I came back, Dee could use me again, control me again, that’s what he wanted when he set Remus on Logan, if I didn’t come home, he would hurt you all. I said no, I came here to grab my stuff and run, fly far away and hope he would chase me and leave you all alone.   
I was stupid, I was so stupid, I was a fool to think I could settle somewhere, I could make friends, I could have a life, I should have known he’d find me anywhere, I should have never stopped running I should never have let myself care-“ He cut off, squeezing closed his eyes, wings wrapping around himself.   
“He knew, of course. He can read me better than I can, he knows everything, he always does. He knew I’d run and Remus was here, waiting. Because if I wasn’t willing to play my role, I was just a roadblock to Dee taking power. If another fae killed me, it was a failure on his part. If he killed me, well, he’d taken out the heir to the throne, and was rightful king. I never meant a thing to him, to any of them, I was just a pawn in their game.   
I don’t know why now, I don’t know why he’s finally making his move, maybe he thought I’d come back eventually, and he got tired of waiting. Maybe there’s something going on in the court, a challenger, that’s making him put plans into motion, but he’s aiming for something. Something big, or he wouldn’t have bothered with me.” Virgil finished.   
The silence was deafening. In his head he was hearing Dee’s ice cold voice, dripping venom and threat. He was back in the court with those burning stares, he was back in his lessons, Dee whispering in his ear, his own body moving against his will, forcing him to do things, to control, to hurt-  
His train of thought broke at the soft touch of his cheek, gentle hands wiping away tears he hadn’t known were falling, peeking his eyes open to find Patton right there, cupping his face.   
“You. Are. Brave.” He cut Virgil off before he even had a chance to start protesting. “You were being manipulated. You were being abused. And you found the strength to leave. That is brave, Virgil. You tried to protect us, the only way you knew how. You almost died, rather than let us be hurt. That is brave. That kid has a life, is growing up, because you decided enough was enough. Don’t you ever, ever, doubt that you are brave and kind and good. Or I will fight you myself, to prove you wrong.” Patton said, more fiercely than Virgil had ever seen him, blue eyes blazing, and Virgil felt himself crack a smile, felt some of the ice in him melt, at this beautiful, dazzling mage who had such faith in him, who by some miracle actually wanted him, loved him-  
Then his lips were on Patton’s, his hands in the mage’s hair, Patton’s arms around his waist, and for a moment all he knew was surging, endless warmth, endless love, endless hope, that maybe, maybe he could have this.  
“Whatever else is true, whatever else you’ve done, I love you. Don’t you ever let yourself forget that.” Patton whispered, forehead resting against Virgil’s, feeling him smile, feeling his lightness.   
“After that, I’m not sure I could if I tried.” He murmured, earning a soft laugh from Patton. They broke apart at Roman’s clapping, Patton’s cheeks flushed red, Virgil’s ears burning.   
“About time, you two!” He whooped.   
“Shut up, Roman.” Virgil groaned.   
“So, should we call you your highness? Your grace? Prince Virgil?” He continued to tease, Virgil groaning louder, slouching farther down against the wall.  
“Pleaaase don’t.” He replied, laughter in his voice.  
“Wait, wait, wait, does this make you Patton’s prince charming?”   
“Are you done yet?” Virgil asked, rolling his eyes.   
“Oh, not nearly, but I’ll stop for now.” Virgil snorted and Patton giggled, Logan sighed, fingers twining around Roman’s.   
“How are you feeling, Virgil?” Logan asked, breaking the moment. Virgil carefully got to his feet, feeling wobbly for a moment before he regained his balance. He stretched his arms, wincing at his shoulder, which twinged. He spread first one wing, then the other, grimacing at the bald patches, more skin than feathers, though he could see new ones already coming in. It wouldn’t be long before they were fully fledged again.   
“Not bad, considering.” He answered, tucking back his wings, reaching for his magic. Instantly he was blindsided by a tidal wave of dizzy nausea that sent him pitching sideways, the world spinning out of control. How had he not realized immediately, how had he not noticed? He’d been distracted, that’s how, he’d had a million thoughts on his mind. His emotions had been heightened enough it almost felt normal, but now it was unmistakable, it left him off balance, it was like he’d lost his sight, or hearing, the world was suddenly so dim.   
Usually, he could sense everything around him in the forest, he could see the auras of every creature if he wanted, he could hear the trees whispering, he could hear the wind speaking, he could feel the ancient strength and power all around him. Now it was all dark. He had no sense of his surroundings, with his eyes closed. He couldn’t even feel Patton’s bright chime of magic, despite him being right in front of him. He felt a rush of despair, of pure agony that settled into him, a hard ball of cold rage, of deep fury.   
He took a deep breath, steadying himself against the gaping hole in his senses, and opened his eyes, realizing he was being supported by Patton, who had caught him when he’d toppled over. He saw Patton draw back slightly at the look in his eyes, that dark, hard glint.   
“He bound my power. That’s what the amulet did. He stole all my power, then bound it so it’s untouchable.”   
“That’s why… I was feeding you magic so you could heal, I thought it was because you were sick, the iron-“ Patton said, realization flashing across his face. Virgil scowled, stalking to the door, slamming it open and feeling the cool night air on his face.   
“Virgil! You can’t-“   
“Can’t what, Roman?” He hissed, face a mask of ice and ire, actually causing Roman to stumble back. “With all his magic, and all my magic, do you have any idea the damage that could be done? The courts are a balance. If there’s too much light, there’s no room for growth. If there’s too much dark, there’s no room for hope. If Demarius does whatever he wants, everything will be chaos.”   
“He was going to say you’re not going alone.” Logan said, firmly. Virgil shook his head.   
“you can’t. He’ll tear you apart, they’ll tear you apart.” He said, facing Patton, panic on his face.   
“You won’t let that happen, Virg. And I won’t let you face this all by yourself. Not when you’re weakened. I won’t lose you, Virgil.” Patton replied, eyes burning with light, with magic. Virgil bit his lip, looking over the trio, ready to fight, ready to fight for him. His magic was gone, but the one thing he could do, could always do, was get back to the court. He was connected to it, after all, no matter what Dee did to him. He was their king.   
“ok. Ok. Let’s do this, then.” He closed his eyes. Breathed deep. Thought, home.


	6. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Co return to the court, to face Demarius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long as the last one, but still longer. We've almost caught up to where I'm still writing in the story. The next chapter should be out soon, but after that it might take a bit.

He opened his eyes to the familiar cold of the main court throne room. The walls and floor were white marble, pillars intricately carved with images of icicles, snow, freezing humans. The crystal chandeliers swayed lightly, soft chimes that glinted in the light.  
He froze, hearing voices approaching from behind the large silver throne. There was a room behind, the council chamber, not that they met anymore. Dee had silenced anyone with the sense to speak against him, who wanted to try and keep the balance. He wondered what the court had been before Dee’s rule. If things had been different.   
He snapped out of his thoughts as he made out Dee’s voice, even from a distance it was unmistakable, and he instinctively reached for his power, stumbling against Patton as the surge of wrongness shot through him. He recovered quickly, pulling away and standing tall as Demarius entered the room, in animated conversation with Remus, mace slung on his shoulder.   
Without hesitation, Roman charged, swift and silent. Remus barely had time to block his blow, stumbling backwards against the furious assault. Demarius simply stepped out of their way, disinterested focus on Virgil.   
“Corvian, didn’t think you’d be coming back.” His eyes flashed, and that was the only sign of his displeasure though his carefully curated composure.   
“You mean didn’t think I’d still be alive.” He replied scathingly, Dee raising an eyebrow.   
“Same thing, dearie.” Without warning, power lashed towards Virgil, a giant golden serpent rushing past Dee, fangs bared. Virgil froze, and Patton jumped in front of him, blue fire flaring to life, shooting comets of flames at the snake in explosions of light.   
“Clever, clever, getting a mage on your side.” He whipped around as Dee’s voice came from behind him. He hissed, reaching for his magic, cursing as he stumbled. Dee smirked.   
“Missing something, little crow?” He saw a flash of violet around Dee’s neck, recognized the flash of his own magic, and felt anger jolt through him. Dee grinned, vanishing. Virgil caught a flash of gold down the hall leading out of the room. He glanced back, Roman was in close combat with his brother, holding his ground. Patton was battling the serpent, beating it back. Logan had shifted and was helping where he could, throwing Remus off balance here, snapping at the snake there to distract it while Patton cast a spell. They had this handled. With a huff, he turned, taking off after Demarius.   
“Virgil!” Patton cried, watching him chase after Dee. He yelped as a tail whipped down on him, barely managing to roll out of the way. Logan darted forwards, trying to follow Virgil, but the snake was faster, rearing its giant hood before the door to block any exit. He narrowed his eyes, determination flooding through him.   
“Oh no you don’t.” He muttered, eyes blazing. He would not let Virgil go off on his own and get hurt. Not again. 

Virgil ran, chasing flashes of Dee’s cloak around corners, the sound of his echoing footsteps, flashes of magic that tugged at his soul, because it was his, until he emerged, slightly out of breath, into the light of day. His heart dropped.   
A thousand horrible memories came churning back, of his own hands hurting, cutting, killing, his own voice laughing, his own head so muddled and confused he didn’t know what thoughts were even his anymore and he shut down rather than face anything else. The training grounds.   
He could feel his hands clenching, his heart pounding, his breath coming in too short gasps, and he forced down the fear, forced himself to focus, to look, to see what was now, rather than the past.   
“You know, I have rather fond memories of this place. Teaching you everything I know. Watching you learn, grow.” The voice echoed from all around him, and he hissed, taking a careful step forward, farther into the small arena like structure.   
“You used me, just like you use everything and everyone. Don’t pretend it was anything else!” He shouted back, surprised at the steadiness of his own voice. He was afraid, yes, but also angry, and he let that fill him to give himself the courage to stay standing as Dee’s dark chuckle rang out.   
“Please. You enjoyed it, Virgil. It’s ok to admit it. Everyone wants power, wants control. It’s only natural.” He was shaking.   
“Not like that. Not like you do. You only use power to hurt people. I never wanted that kind of power. You tried to make me like you, a monster, like you, but you never could. YOU FAILED!” He yelled, voice finally cracking, nails cutting into his palms, breathless and desperate.   
“Oh Virgil. If only you actually believed that.” The voice was right behind him, right in his ear, but before he could react, he let out a strangled cry. That familiar iciness was crawling through his veins, freezing him in place, that voice echoing in his head, making him stay still, though it felt like beetles marching down his spine.   
“Look at you. No magic, no weapons, no friends to save you this time. Little Corvian, flown home to roost. Well, maybe not flown.” Dee commented, circling Virgil, running a hand over his wings. Virgil shuddered at the touch, so different than Patton’s, so cold.   
“I never made you do a thing you didn’t want to, Virgil. You have such power, such potential, do you really think I could control you, with all that swirling inside? You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you love the darkness, you love the way it makes you feel, the way it burns in your chest and with a word you can destroy everything in your way.” He stopped pacing, standing in front of Virgil, looking into his eyes, face soft and sympathetic.   
“You didn’t want to admit to yourself. I was simply helping. I was giving you the excuse you needed. Oh, it’s not me doing these things, he’s making me. Oh, it’s not me being cruel, it’s him. Please. Stop pretending, Virgil. Stop holding yourself back.” He was lulled by those eyes, by that strange, melodic tone, and he felt himself giving in, felt his control slipping, felt his will fading as his muscles unclenched, as he stood still of his own accord, as the power keeping him frozen in place faded, as he slipped out of his own mind, into somewhere deeper.   
“There we are. Now, I have a little present for you, Corvian, I had a feeling Remus would fail when it came to you, he’s not the most reliable, but I do appreciate his fervor in his work.” He snapped his fingers and lights flared along the training ground revealing what Virgil hadn’t been able to see before.   
On the opposite side, bound and gagged, tied to a tall, wooden pole, was a boy. He looked to be around 18, with brown hair and kind, soft eyes. There was something familiar about him, Virgil thought, almost drowsily, something he recognized. Then he saw the feather the boy wore in his hair, and he jolted back to alertness. The arena, the boy, the boy he’d saved.   
“It took some doing, seemed the little scoundrel picked up some tricks on warding off unwanted visitors. Still, one can’t be wary all the time, can they?” Virgil kept his breathing even, his eyes blank, trying not to show he was aware. Dee still had control of him, he couldn’t move, but he could fight back the will holding him, he had to.   
“Let’s end this, shall we?” His arm raised not of his accord, pointing at the pole. He felt power building in Dee and braced himself. At the last moment, the shoved with all his might, all his will, battered and slammed against the magic controlling him, against the voices whispering in his head that he wanted this, that he liked this, that this was him, and with a wordless, fierce shout, he felt the tide retreat. He slammed his fist to the ground, sending out a shockwave that rolled across the arena and cracked the earth, dispelling safely away.   
Dee had meant for it to come down as a lightning strike. To start the pole on fire, to make him watch as the boy burned alive, to listen to his screams, to know this was his fault, to know what would happen if he dared defy Demarius again. It could be Patton, next, or Roman, or Logan. Dee wouldn’t hesitate.  
“Useless.” Dee spat, and Virgil flinched. He was on his knees, shaking from the effort it had taken to break Dee’s control, knowing he didn’t have it in him to do it again. “What a waste of power. What a waste of magic. That’s why I took it, because you don’t even know how to use it. I’ll rule everything, Virgil. With this I have enough power to destroy the other courts, to tear apart the human realm, to claim it all. It will be marvelous. I’d hoped you’d come around, but you’re just so stubborn. No matter. I’ll take care of you, then I’ll dispose of your little friends, of the boy, for good measure.” He could see Dee’s feet, standing before him, but he didn’t have the strength to raise his head. He could feel the terror pounding through him, not for him, but for his friends, his love. He felt those golden threads that had bound his power come alive inside of him, the searing pain of them, and he screamed, eyes blazing gold, as they electrified his insides, draining him of every drop of power he had left. Of his life. 

They felt the earthquake in the throne room. It threw them all off balance. Logan used it to trip Remus, giving Roman time to lunge, slam his pommel atop his brother’s head, sending him groaning to the floor. Quickly, he kicked away his weapon, using his sash to tie him tight. Patton used the momentum to shoot a column of stone into the air, crushing the serpent against the ceiling. Logan shifted back, checking them both over for injuries as they stood panting for a moment. Roman waved off his concern, wiping sweat from his brow, Patton dusted his hands off on his pants, catching his breath.   
“What was that?” Logan asked. Patton shook his head, eyes flicking to the doorway.  
“Something big, that’s for sure. And it can’t be good.” They made their way cautiously out the door, down the hall, freezing a minute later at the agonized, gut wrenching scream. Patton’s heart jumped to his throat, and he ran, following the sound, Roman and Logan right on his heels.   
They burst outside, onto the cracked, crumbled earth of the training ground. Patton let out a pained cry, trying to run to Virgil, but Roman and Logan caught hold of him, keeping him in their grasp.  
“Let go!” He yelled, struggling against their hold, but the two of them combined were much stronger than him.  
“You can’t run into that, Patton! I don’t know much about magic, but I know that can’t be good!” Roman replied, shouting to be heard over the maelstrom.   
“Patton, you can’t survive that. I know you want to rush in, but we need a plan.” Logan answered, trying to think, to process what he was looking at.  
Demarius was hovering in the air, gold and violet swirling around him, he himself burning like the sun, so bright they could barely look right at him. In the eye of the swirling vortex of raw magic was Virgil. He was on his knees, arms stiff at his sides. His head was thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes blazing gold, so bright even the whites were drowned out. Violet glowing vapor was being expelled from his mouth, black tears leaving inky streaks down his face.   
“You don’t understand! He’s killing him! That’s not just magic, that’s his life force!” Patton wriggled and writhed out of Roman’s grip, sending a spark of electricity at Logan, who yelped, dropping his grip. Patton charged, throwing two discs of explosive power at Demarius, who swiped them away easily. But he was caught unawares as a third boomeranged back, knocking his mask askew, revealing a face half puckered and burned, melted from heat. His attention snapped to Patton, a glare that froze him in place.   
“You.” Dee hissed, sending a chill through Patton, feeling as if ropes were tightening around him, squeezing the breath out of him. “You infuriating, petulant child.” He smirked, gaze turning back to Virgil, who stood wordlessly, looking like a badly pupateered marionette.   
“Well, Virgil? Why don’t you take care of our little mage problem?” His eyes were glazed gold, nothing in them. He was empty and Patton’s stomach lurched, tears springing to his eyes. Not because he was afraid. Not because Virgil lifted his hand, and Patton gasped, feeling his magic being funneled out of him, being sucked dry. Not because of Dee looming over the two of them, casually flicking a finger and slamming Roman back against a pillar, knocking him out as he tried to run to Patton’s side. Not for Logan kneeling beside him, shaking him, trying to wake him up.  
It was for the way, even now, Virgil flinched at Dee’s proprietary hand on his shoulder. The way dark tears kept falling. The way he was so weak, the only thing holding him up was Demarius’s twisted desire to punish him.   
“Virgil.” He stated, His voice was soft, calm, calmer than he felt.  
“He’s not here right now, dear. Try again.” Patton shifted his glare to Demarius for a moment, feeling himself weaken as more power was drawn from him. He could see it, his blue aura being sucked away, he had less magic than Virgil, already the siphoning was eating away at his own life force, which was being swirled into the vortex that was Dee.   
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to him.” He stated firmly, eyes burning as he looked back at Virgil, who clenched his hand, the invisible ropes squeezing so tight he could barely wheeze.   
“you’re stronger… than this. Better. This isn’t you. Fight. It.” The world was dimming around him, stars dancing before his eyes. He heard a cold laugh.   
“Nice try, darling.” The words were whispered in his ear, then the world went dark. 

“PATTON!” He screamed, but nothing came out of his mouth. He was begging Roman to drag Patton away, to leave him there, to please, please save him, but Patton broke free and charged and did the worst possible thing he could do to anger Dee.   
He could feel Patton’s magic trickling through him, into Dee. He was so starved for magic, barely even aware of himself, but Patton’s made him sick, made him want to scream, forced him to care, because it wasn’t just his life anymore, it was Patton’s, and he couldn’t let this happen, he couldn’t watch Patton die, he couldn’t-   
He could feel him, in his magic. He could feel Patton’s kindness, his warmth, his curiosity and light, his boundless, endless love and faith. He was there, he was so close, he was on the ground, he was unconscious, he was in his head, telling him he was loved and brave and strong, he was going to die if he didn’t do something, he was drowning in everything, unable to find solid ground, unable to center himself, unable to hold on-   
“It’s ok, sweetie. It’s ok to let go.” Patton. Patton’s voice echoed through him, resonating in his bones. No. No it wouldn’t end like this. No, he wouldn’t let go. Not of Patton. He was Virgil Corvian. Prince of the dark court, king of the Unseelie fae, and Demarius was nothing, nothing in comparison to that.  
Virgil shuddered, shifting, feeling something crack and crumble. It was like an invisible wall inside of him had vanished, and suddenly he was flooded with power, with magic, with unbearable, endless strength.   
He could suddenly see every fae in the court, he could feel every one of them, he could sense where they were, what they felt, it was overwhelming and endless, but most importantly, he could move.   
He wrenched himself up, dark magic crackling like lightning, ripping through Dee’s magic and sending him flying backwards, tumbling across the ground in an explosion as his own magic also backfired against him. Virgil’s wings flared behind him, shielding Patton’s prone form as he snarled, magic rippling like static electricity through his feathers, sparking in his eyes, an ebony circlet forming around his forehead.   
“Don’t. Don’t. You. Dare.” Each word slammed against Dee like a physical force, sending him reeling across the practice field as he struggled to his feet, eyes wide and disbelieving.   
“How-“ He yelped as the gem at his throat shattered, magic flowing back to Virgil, hands glowing violet with it, as he stalked forward one step for each of Demarius’s scrambled, retreating ones.   
“Don’t you dare touch him ever again. Don’t even think of showing your face in my court or I will hunt you down. You will regret it for the rest of your very short life.” He growled, dark magic rippling off of him, surrounding Demarius, marking him as an exile, as a traitor, free game for any fae of any court. He’d never be safe, not ever again.   
“You should have left me alone, Dee. You’d have been better off.” His eyes blazed and Dee vanished, Virgil banishing him somewhere far away, to the edges of the earth where there was nothing but darkness and ice. He stared at the spot for a long moment, before turning away, feeling his legs wobble, his hands shake.   
Despite that surge of strange magic, he was weak. Demarius hadn’t been stealing his magic, he’d been draining his life force, the energy woven into his center, into his soul and being. Distantly, he wondered if he had enough left.  
He felt himself sway, and suddenly he was on the ground, dirt against his face, wondering when he’d laid down. It didn’t matter, he supposed. The power swirling through him was so loud, drowning out his own thoughts, his sense of the court too bright and blinding. He was tired, he was so tired, he just needed to sleep. His last thought was that he’d kept Patton safe.


	7. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendly new face appears, to help everyone get back on their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end of this story, though I'm definitely going to do more with this world after this arc is finished.

Roman woke with a groan, eyes opening to see Logan’s concerned face hovering over him. He sat up with a wince, rubbing the back of his head where he’d slammed into the pillar, feeling a bruise forming.   
“Are you alright?” he asked, running his hands over Logan, feeling for any injury.   
“I should be asking you that question. It’s lucky you’re so thick headed, Roman, or I would have had cause for concern.” Logan replied, smiling as Roman laughed, then reached up and straightened Logan’s glasses.   
His gaze flitted across the field, shooting to his feet as he remembered. Patton! But there he was, waking up himself, pushing himself to his knees. Further out was a boy, tied to a post, someone Roman didn’t recognize. And Virgil, sprawled on the ground, dark lights dancing through his once again fully feathered wings, his hair obscuring his face.   
“You go get the kid. I’ll get Pat and Virg.” Roman said. Logan nodded, trotting off across the field.   
“Patton! You alright?” Roman asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Patton didn’t acknowledge him, his eyes were locked on Virgil. He shrugged off Roman’s hand and ran to Virgil, hand shaking as he reached out.   
“Virgil? Sweetie, come on, dear heart.” He murmured, pushing back his hair, feeling the crackle of his magic, almost like static against his skin. As he watched, Virgil’s eyes scrunched tight, then fluttered open.   
“pat… m’sorry… I’m sorry, I couldn’t, I hurt you, I couldn’t-“ He was cut off by Patton wrapping his arms around him, hugging him tightly, and Virgil’s wings fluttered in surprise, before wrapping around the two of them, face buried in Patton’s shoulder.   
“It’s ok, it’s all ok, virg.” Patton whispered in his ear, feeling Virgil hold onto him tighter.   
“you lovely idiot, what were you thinking? I could feel you slipping away.” Virgil said, voice muffled by Patton’s clothing.   
“Me?? He was killing you, Virgil. I had to do something.” He pulled back, looking over Virgil, feeling the static spark against his hands as he ran them over Virgil’s beautiful feathers.   
“What did you do, Virgil?” Patton asked softly. Virgil looked away, biting his lip, eyes widening as Logan walked over, in conversation with a young man. Their eyes met for a moment, the kid smiling hesitantly.   
“Hi. Again.” He said, with a small wave.   
“We gotta stop meeting this way, kid.” Virgil replied, a wry smile tinging his lips.   
“I took your advice! But, well…” he shoved a hand in his pocket, fingers wiggling through the bottom where a hole had been punched in it. “I guess the nail fell out.” He replied sheepishly. Virgil snorted.   
“So… who are you, exactly?” Roman asked, a bit suspicious.   
“This is Thomas. He’s the one Virgil saved from the arena. Demarius intended to force Virgil to cause him harm.”   
“Kept the feather, huh?” Virgil asked, making Thomas blush as he ran his fingers over its place in his hair. “Looks good.” With that Virgil slumped against Patton.   
“Virg!” Logan dropped to his knees beside the fae, feeling his forehead. It was warm, and his cheeks were flushed.   
“M fine, Lo. Really.” He muttered, barely awake.  
“He hasn’t recovered yet. We shouldn’t have let him come.” Logan swore.   
“Uh, hate to break it to ya, but we couldn’t have stopped him.” Roman replied. Logan scowled.   
“That’s not the point. Surely we could have talked him into waiting at least a day, to recover further.”   
“Surely we couldn’t! He would have left without us! Then where would he be?” Roman asked, Logan opening his mouth to answer when Thomas cut off their argument.  
“Uh, guys?” Thomas called. He’d already summoned magic, silvery wisps of flame in his hands. Looking around Roman drew his sword, and Logan prepared to shift, ready to pounce and claw.  
They’d assembled so silently, they hadn’t noticed at first. Fae were emerging from shadows, landing from the air, settling everywhere. Thin fae with bark patterned skin, gauzy wings and dark hair, others with raven wings or owl markings, light haired and brilliant eyes, all shimmering with innate magic that took Patton’s breath away. One stepped forward.   
He had brown, tawny wings, speckled with black. His eyes were dark, like Virgil’s, but something about them had a glimmer of warmth. His skin was almost the same tan as his wings, white markings wrapping up his arms in unfamiliar runic script, white markings dotting his face like freckles across his cheeks and nose.   
“Stand down, dudes.” Roman’s grip tightened on his sword, Logan felt a growl in his chest, and to his surprise, Thomas stood firmly by their side, face determined.   
“Who are you?” Roman demanded, stepping forwards. The fae man held his hands up, making no move of attack as he stepped closer, Roman’s sword pointed at his throat.   
“I’m Remairian, but most just call me Remmy. I was supposed to be one of his guardians, along with Demarius. But he disbanded the council, he killed anyone who spoke against him, anyone who wanted anything different than he did had to flee. I was one of those. One of the first.”   
“So why are you here now?” Thomas asked, lowering his guard, sharing a glance with Logan, who also seemed to be listening curiously.   
“Because of him.” He nodded towards Virgil, a fond, small smile on his lips. “We all felt it. He claimed his place, claimed the throne. Demarius may have been ruling, but the court knows its own. As soon as he accepted it, his power awakened. We knew it was safe to return.”   
“Can you help him?” Patton’s voice was quiet, hopeful, and Remmy looked past Roman, seeing the way Patton held Virgil close in his arms, comfortingly ran his hand through his feathers.  
“I certainly hope so. May I?” He asked, looking to Roman for permission. He hesitated, but slowly lowered his sword, sheathing it, but he kept a hand on the pommel as Remmy knelt beside Virgil and Patton. He placed a hand on Virgil’s forehead, feeling its warmth with a slight frown.   
“His core magic is so weak. He needs to channel the power he’s getting from the court into his center. It’s all just swirling around inside of him, overwhelming him right now.” Remmy muttered, more talking to himself than to any of the others.   
“What do we do?” He looked up at Thomas’s question.   
“Help him use it as it’s meant to be used.” Remmy replied, the runes on his arms coming to life, swirling and rearranging as they glowed white.   
“Come on, follow my lead.” He muttered, channeling a slipstream of his own magic into Virgil. He could feel how overwhelmed he was, and slowly he reined in the power running rampant, burning itself, corralled it into corridors and channels that led into Virgil’s center, through his veins and bones, until he was alight with it, had woven it into the fabric of Virgil’s being. Remmy felt the magic shift into place, and he slowly withdrew his own, making sure Virgil’s stayed the way he’d shown it, held the pattern.   
“Well?” Roman demanded.   
“It worked. Can’t you feel it, Ro? It’s not sparking all over the place anymore, he’s not burning up on it.” Patton replied, stroking Virgil’s hair, watching him intently.   
“You’ve got some keen senses, for a human. He needs rest. This has all taken a toll on him. On you too, it seems. Are you his partner?” Patton flushed red at the question, and Roman snickered at his expression, Logan shooting him a halfhearted stare of disapproval.   
“I don’t know if I’d say that… we just started-“ He was cut off by Virgil, who made a small noise, burrowing closer against Patton. Remmy smirked.   
“I guess that answers that. Now, let’s get all of you taken care of.” Remmy said, looking over the rest of them critically. “Then someone can fill me in on the deets of what’s been going down.”

It was so loud in Virgil’s head. There was magic swirling through him, so much of it, he didn’t know what to do with it all. He could hear voices, sense the fae of his court, they cluttered his thoughts and drowned out his own, it was so… much.  
“Easy, honey. Take it a breath at a time. In and out with me.” He followed the voices instructions, counting out his breaths, and slowly the noise receded. It didn’t go away, he could still feel it, in the back of his mind, but it wasn’t overwhelming. It could be ignored and he could hear himself again.   
“There we are. How you feeling?” Virgil squinted open his eyes, blinking at the owlish face looking down at him. It was familiar, vaguely, he remembered being little, being held, being sung to. Warmth before Dee’s endless cold.  
“Don’t remember me, do you?” He asked at Virgil’s befuddled stare. He reached out, but Virgil flinched back, and he withdrew his hand with soft sigh. “It’s alright. I made your friends go and get some rest, they wouldn’t stop pacing and fretting while they were in here. You needed the sleep as well.” Virgil seemed to soften ever so slightly, still guarded.   
“patton… he’s ok?” He croaked out.   
“He’s fine, babe. They all are. Thanks to you.” Virgil shook his head, pushing himself up so he was sitting, bangs hanging over his face.   
“I dragged them into this. They were put in this situation because of me. I let them come along, I knew I was being watched and I still became close with them. I was selfish and it put them all in danger.”   
“Oh honey. No one can make it through life all by themselves, and Demarius knows it. That’s where his power comes from, manipulating you into thinking his own actions are your fault. That his punishments are deserved. That his tests are fair. They aren’t. His games aren’t made to be won.” Virgil looked up at him, consideringly.   
“How do you know?” Virgil muttered.   
“I’ve played them more times than you can count, and they are never fair and never balanced in your favor. No matter what Demarius says, the blame is never on you.” He said firmly, placing a hand over Virgil’s, who didn’t pull away this time.   
“Sounds like personal experience.” Virgil replied, probingly.   
“Trust me, I learned it the hard way. Part of the reason I wasn’t around for you. I wish I’d been able to take any of it for you, to tell you that as it was happening. I’m so proud of you, hon. For making it out.” Something hit Virgil then, a sweep of memory, of something barely tangible. Warm sun, walking through the woods, being swept up, giggling, placed on someone’s shoulders, learning the names of the trees, of the plants.   
“I… you were there… before, with Dee, you…” Virgil scrunched his brow, trying to remember, these fleeting, far away feelings of being held, being…loved.  
“I was. I was supposed to take care of you. But Demarius staged a coupe and I had to flee. I’ve never regretted anything more than having to leave you alone with him. He did a number on you, I can tell. I can guess what he told you, made you do. I…” He shook his head, regret and sadness flitting across his face, softening as he looked at Virgil.   
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. That you had to live with him, had to listen to him make you believe you weren’t worth a thing. The longer he kept you believing that, the longer it would take for you to claim the throne, so he could keep his power. He made you believe you weren’t ready, would never be ready.”   
“I’m not. I don’t want this, I never wanted this. It’s too much, and I don’t want to be a part of it, of them, of the court. I hate it. I hate them, I hate Demarius, I hate everything about it, Remmy!” He shouted, breathless for a moment before he realized what he’d said, that he remembered his name.   
“The courts weren’t always like this. Demarius stole the warmth out of it. You can change it, you’ve already started changing it. Anyone near who felt the shift is already here, anyone who believes in keeping the peace, in keeping balance, are ready to support you. And you’ve found a strong group of friends, and have one very determined, very strong mage by your side. Don’t underestimate yourself. You are so much more capable than you think you are, and you don’t have to do any of this by yourself.” Remmy replied, squeezing Virgil’s hand once before getting to his feet, smiling at the blush creeping up Virgil’s cheeks.   
“Now, if you’re feeling up for it, I’ll let your friends know you’re available for visitors. Just try and keep it to a minimum, you still need rest. Your body and magic are not nearly recovered from today, much less what happened before all this.” Virgil let out a long breath, before nodding once.   
“okay.” Virgil said softly, arms crossed tight, as Remmy left, leaving the door open a crack.

Patton was sitting in a chair, knees tucked under him, head resting on the armrest, refusing to go to sleep no matter how many times the others told him he needed to rest and recharge, they’d wake him as soon as anything happened.   
Roman was pacing, as usual, unable to sit still. He was fuming, the anger radiating off him practically heating the room. Remmy had made sure Remus was contained, but he wouldn’t let Roman speak to him, as, in Remmy’s words, “I have a feeling there’ll be less talking and more punching if I let you two have some brother bonding time by yourselves.” He was dying to get back at him, but even more than that, to ask him why, why any of it?   
Logan was sitting near the fire, Thomas beside him, speaking animatedly about magic, about the ins and outs, trying to dissect how Thomas’s was different from Patton’s, making notes he would try and dissect with science later, as well as quizzing him on his background, trying to determine why some humans had magic while others didn’t.   
“How did you get taken? The first time, I mean.” Logan asked, pushing up his glasses. Thomas smiled sheepishly.   
“I mean, pretty much how Virgil assumed. I had magic, we live on the edge of the woods. I was just learning how to control it, so it was still a bit unpredictable. I peaked one of the fae’s interest. I don’t remember much, just someone snatching me, then darkness. The next thing I knew a door opened and I stumbled out into the arena. I was gone about a day total. It totally freaked out my parents, obviously, it took them ages to let me go anywhere alone again, and I told them about the deterrents Virgil taught me. Usually I’m more prepped than I was when I got grabbed this time, but I was in a rush, and didn’t take the time to check myself over for protection. Won’t make that mistake again.”   
“Hopefully you won’t be at risk again, with Virgil now in charge and Demarius banished who knows where.” Logan replied thoughtfully.   
“One more question to ask him, whenever tall, tan, and weird decides to let us see him.” Roman grumbled, not slowing in his marching.   
“come on, Roman, he’s been through a lot. He needs some time to figure it all out.” Patton answered. Roman’s hand clenched.   
“Yes, and most of that damage was done by Remus. Whom I’m also not allowed to talk to. So far this all seems pretty sketchy to me.”   
“I never said you couldn’t talk to him, just that you can’t talk to him unsupervised.” Roman jumped at the voice from the doorway, frowning at Remmy having managed to sneak up on him. “And if you keep your noise to a minimum, you can go see Corvian now.”   
“Corvian. That’s his surname?” Logan asked.   
“It is.” Remmy replied.   
“What happened to his parents?” Patton asked, and Remmy’s face darkened.   
“Dead. Under suspicious circumstances. The same kind of circumstances that led Demarius to be declared a guardian of their son.”   
“Patton, why don’t you go see Virgil? The rest of us can occupy ourselves elsewhere. We wouldn’t want to overwhelm him, and I know you won’t rest until you see him.” Logan said, sharing a glance with Roman.   
“Are you sure? I’m sure he’d love to see you guys too.” Patton replied.   
“I think you could use the time together. He might be willing to be more open with you, without the rest of us there. He needs someone, Pat, and that someone is you.” Roman answered.   
“He’s right down the hall, first door to the left.” Remmy said, stepping fully into the room and out of the doorway.   
“You’re not coming with?” Patton asked. Remmy shook his head.   
“Nah. We already talked and they’re right. Besides, I need to monitor that one’s visit with his bro, since if I wait any longer clearly he’s gonna storm down there himself.” Remmy replied dryly. Patton nodded, and slipped out of the room.  
“About time! Let’s go, Lo.” Roman exclaimed, holding out a hand to help his partner up. Logan shook his head.   
“This is something for the two of you to work out.”   
“Work out? There’s nothing to work out, Logan. He almost killed you, he tortured Virgil, what is there to work out? He’s just as much of a monster as he was when I ran away!” Roman spat. Logan stood, cupping Roman’s cheek.   
“That. You can’t keep that hate bottled up inside you, Roman. You need to face him so you can let some of it go.” He replied, smiling as Roman placed a hand over his, leaning into his touch with a sigh.   
“You’re right, of course, as always, love. How did I ever win your heart?” Roman asked softly.   
“Well. I’m not a huge proponent of luck, but every once in a while, it’s the only explanation.” Roman laughed, kissing Logan’s cheek before pulling away, smile vanishing as he turned to Remmy.   
“Lead on.” 

Patton peeked through the cracked open door, a bit hesitant. Virgil was sitting on a bed, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them, wings wrapped around that. He was cocooned in a halo of misery, Patton could feel it from the hall. He stepped in softly, closing the door behind.  
“Virgil?” His head shot up at Patton’s voice, the change in his posture instant as his wings uncurled, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes dark and vulnerable and afraid, as he refused to meet Patton’s gaze. Patton couldn’t stand that look on his face, not a moment longer.   
He sat down on the bed across from Virgil, pulling him into his arms, onto his lap, pressing kisses to his forehead, the tip of his nose, his cheeks, his lips, until he could feel Virgil smiling, feel some of that misery begin to fade. Virgil sighed and nestled against him, wings wrapping around them.   
“Talk to me?” Patton asked softly, fully ready for Virgil to say no, and to accept that no as an answer.   
“About what? I don’t even know where to start, if I even know how this all started. I remember Remmy, but not enough to pin him down, to know if I can actually trust him. I know the court was different before Dee, but I don’t know if I can fix it, make it that way again. I don’t know… I don’t who or what I’m supposed to be, Patton. I don’t know how to do this. How my parents-“ A flash of pain rushed across his face, unexpectedly stabbed into his heart. “no one ever said, but it’s obvious enough now, that something happened. They didn’t just… die for no reason. That Dee… and I keep wondering what they would do, but I don’t even know them, I don’t know anything!” He exclaimed, face buried in his hands. “I don’t know who I am.” He whispered, so soft Patton could barely hear. Carefully, Patton twined his fingers through Virgil’s, pulling them away from his face, leaning down so their foreheads touched.   
“And you… I didn’t even ask how you’re doing, if Logan and Roman are ok, I just… it’s all a mess… and I can’t think straight and it’s too much, all of this, I don’t know…” He broke off, breath coming in quick and shallow, his heart pounding loud in his chest, almost the only thing he could hear.   
“Sweetie, it’s hard. This situation is hard. You have every right to be scared and confused and nervous and… and angry! But don’t let those feelings make you forget everything you went through to get here, everything you survived, to get here. It’s normal, to not know who you are. To need time to figure it out, something you haven’t been given. Demarius has been in your head all your life. No one would know who they are under your circumstances. I don’t fully know who I am, and I haven’t had half of the challenges you have. Not knowing who you are doesn’t mean you’re lost, Virg. It just means you’re still growing. It doesn’t help you’re still exhausted, don’t think I can’t tell.” Patton said, the last sentence making Virgil smile ruefully.   
“I could say the same for you, Pat. All the magic you lost… and you don’t have anything to replenish it with, not like I did.”  
“I also don’t need it like you do. It’s not going to kill me, like it nearly did you.”  
“I did. Nearly kill you. I know it wasn’t just magic I was taking. If it was, you wouldn’t have passed out. I wouldn’t have… have heard you.” Virgil replied, and Patton could see him starting to shut down, to withdraw into himself and pull away.   
“No. Demarius almost killed me. You made sure he didn’t. Don’t you think for a second differently.” Patton replied, that fierceness coming back into his voice, eyes imploring as he met Virgil’s. “Don’t let him convince you his actions are yours. They’re two separate decesicions made by two separate people. One who was more experienced and powerful, and one who had been groomed his whole life to believe he was neither of those things, and still tried his damndest to fight back. I know it’s hard to undo, the way you were trained to think, but if we’re starting with anything, it’s this. You. Are. Not. To. Blame.” Patton enunciated, making sure Virgil heard him, actually heard him.  
Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. He seemed frozen for a moment, before he collapsed against Patton, wrapping his arms around his neck, letting the stress and fear and hurt and exhaustion roll out of him in sobs, in wrenching tears, until he was wrung out, too tired to feel anything anymore, blissfully numb.   
“It’s alright, dear heart, let it out.” Patton murmured fondly, holding him close, rubbing his back.   
“Stay? Please?” Virgil’s voice was small, and Patton kissed his cheek.   
“Of course, Virg.” Virgil pulled away and lay down, Patton taking a moment to   
pull up the covers before settling down beside him. Virgil curled tight against Patton, clinging onto his shirt as he fell asleep once again, this time to Patton’s soft murmurings and warm arms wrapped around him. He wasn’t to blame. He could have this. He could.


	8. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman confronts Remus.

Roman felt a surprising amount of hesitancy as they headed down through the castle, to the dungeons. They were nice, as dungeons went, warm and dry, each cell had a mattress of hay, had a clean supply of water, the only thing they didn’t have were views to the outside.   
“They’re enchanted, of course, usually the criminals held down here have some magical abilities. Not that they’ve been used recently.” Remmy said, breaking the silence.   
“What? I thought Demarius kept all kinds of people and beings captive.” Roman asked.   
“He didn’t keep them alive for long. And if he did, it wasn’t the dungeons he was housing them in.” Remmy replied, the markings on his arms darkening.  
“Do those change with your mood?” Remmy looked down at his arms, frowning, and the runes lightened once more.   
“To a point. I can control it if I concentrate, but they do shift on a white to black gradient, yes.”   
“What happened, exactly, between you and Demarius? And what happened to Virgil’s parents?” Roman asked. Remmy sighed.   
“I thought you wanted to interrogate your brother, not me.”   
“Why not kill two birds with one stone? Er, no offense.” Roman answered, remembering his owl like appearance. Remmy simply rolled his eyes.   
“What I know is this. Demarius has always been ambitious. He made friends with many powerful fae, most of whom also wanted more than they were getting. I was close with Virgil’s parents. We were all keeping an eye on Dee, knew he was making moves. They were ambushed. An attack, no evidence left behind, but given Virgil’s state, when Patton found him…” Roman stopped in his tracks.   
“What are you saying?”   
“That it’s possible Remus and Demarius were working together for longer than we thought. There was a surprising lack of evidence of magical attacks and defenses, which didn’t make any sense, but if he had an amulet like the one Remus used on Virgil, and then add iron to the mix, something no fae would directly handle themselves… the pattern becomes clear.” Roman felt sick, felt dizzy, as he leaned against the wall for a moment, steadying himself against the sickening shock that ran through him, that twisted his stomach into knots.   
“Roman…” he shook off the hand on his shoulder, stalking down the dungeon hall, the last door on the right.   
“Open it.” Roman demanded. Remmy gave him a look, but didn’t say a word, unlocking the door. Behind it was a separate cell, iron bars behind which was the too familiar form of his brother, leaning against the wall, one foot kicked back against it, inscrutable eyes flicking up at their entrance.   
“Well, well, finally decided to stop by?” Roman didn’t respond, turning to Remmy.   
“Let me in there.”   
“I don’t know if that’s wise.” Remmy replied, and Roman rounded on him, a glare that could melt stone on his face.   
“What, wanna come say hello face to face?” Remus asked and Roman whipped around, fury on his face.   
“How do you even have the audacity to speak to me, after what you’ve done? Do you know, do you even have the capacity to feel?” Roman thundered, fists clenched. Remus examined his nails.   
“Hmmm, I don’t care? You shouldn’t either, running around with mages and outcasts.” Remus scoffed. “That pathetic little wolf of yours. I wanted to put it down, but Dee said we needed it to send a message.” Roman gripped the bars, knuckles white, eyes burning.   
“Don’t you talk about Logan. Don’t you dare.” He hissed. “I would kill you for that, if nothing else.”   
“Threatening fratricide, Roman? How cute.” Remus smirked.   
“Did you kill Virgil’s parents?” He asked. That got Remus’s attention, his eyes met Roman’s, glittering.   
“Why should I tell you a thing?” Remus asked, boredom in his voice. “What’s in it for me?” Roman growled, stalking away across the room before circling back.   
“You wanna know something, Remus? I hate you. I hate you more than I can possibly express, with every fiber of my being. Not because you nearly killed Logan, who is the love of my life, not because of what you did to Virgil, which was truly monstrous, not even because of all the horrible things you no doubt did for and with Demarius.   
It's because when I was young, I believed you, the stories you told me, the heroics you claimed to your name, I had been proud of you! And you lied! About all of it! About who you were, about what you did, about everything.” Roman was shaking with rage, with angry tears he refused to shed. But Remus was looking at him, a shocked expression on his face, slowly turning to the same anger Roman himself was feeling.  
“Me? I lied? I told you the truth! I was hunting monsters, abominations, putting them out of their misery!”   
“THEY’RE JUST PEOPLE, REMUS! Just people, who are different from you. And you don’t seem to have any problem working with Demarius, who is, what, somehow superior to any other mythical beings you’ve murdered?” Remus kicked off the wall, glaring back at Roman through the bars.   
“I was trying to protect you. What about our parents, Roman? Isn’t it only fair? They took our parents from us, so I took his from him.” Remus hissed, Roman’s breath catching in his throat.   
“Who is they? The world? The innocent beings they were hunting who were simply defending themselves? The fae? Because the only fae who have a habit of killing mortals for no reason is the one you’re working with!”  
“You’re so naïve, Roman. You think that your Wolf cares about you? You think your mage can protect you? Please. You saw the power Demarius has, if I worked with him he would keep us out of harms way, he would stomp out any opposition, we would be royalty and I would never have to worry about you being targeted!”   
“And where do you think Demarius got that power? I’ve known him since he was young, and while his magic was always powerful, he only had the power to take over the court and drive the strongest of us out after the queen and king were killed. I fought him. I gave him the scars on his face. The magic he used was unlike anything I’d ever seen. How do you think he learned to steal other’s magic?” Remmy said, startling the two of them. They’d both forgotten he was there.  
“you were used, Remus. And the worst part is you don’t even care, do you? You’re happy just as long as you have someone weaker than you to tear apart. Patton has more empathy than you’ll ever know, Logan is sweeter than you’ve ever been and Virgil is stronger than anyone else in the world. You? You’re nothing. You’re not even my brother.” Roman turned away, ready to storm out.   
“I was just trying to look after you. You left me. I took care of you, I watched over you, I raised you, I loved you, and you left without a word. Without telling me where you were going, without letting me know you were safe, you just vanished. I didn’t know if you’d been taken or killed or were just out there, somewhere, living your life. Did you think I wouldn’t let you go, if you wanted to? Did you think I was gong to hold you captive and you had to run?” Something in Remus’s voice made him hesitate. The heated anger of their shouting match was gone, something forlorn replacing it.  
“I didn’t know what would happen, Remus. I watched you torture a person to death, watched you laughing and have fun while an intelligent being was killed by your hand.”   
“I would never hurt you Roman, not really. I would have understood, if you’d said you didn’t want to travel anymore, you didn’t want to do this. You were young and maybe not ready and maybe you would have found something else but you never had to run away. I would have found somewhere safe for you to stay, someone to watch over you, at least then I would have known where you were. Demarius said if I helped him he’d help me find you.” Roman let out a long breath, turning back around.   
“But you have hurt me. You’ve hurt every one of my friends. The person I love most in the entire world. You say you were trying to keep me safe, and maybe that’s partially true. But if you understood anything about me, you would know that they are my world. You would have walked away the moment he asked you to hurt Logan.” Roman approached the bars again, where Remus was now the one holding tight to them, lacking any of the malice of moments before, looking lost.  
“I just wanted you back.” Remus said softly. “For the longest time I didn’t know where you were. I just wanted to get you back. I didn’t know what else to do. And you were in a house of a Wolf and a mage, and I didn’t think.”   
“What am I gonna do with you, Ree?” Roman asked, hesitantly reaching through the bars, letting Remus hold his hand, squeezing it once. Remus shook his head.   
“I don’t know.”   
“I can’t trust you. You must know that. If I let you out, you would go on killing, go on Hunting. Even if you left all of us alone, I wouldn’t be able to stand you out there, harming people. And I can’t forgive you, not yet, maybe not ever, for what you’ve already done.” Roman said.   
“I don’t know if I would, anymore. I don’t know…” he took a breath, and Roman was surprised to see tears on his cheeks. “I know I’m broken, Roman. I know there’s something… wrong… with me. I know I shouldn’t like hurting things, I know I shouldn’t enjoy it, that normal people don’t. But I do. I love it, that rush, when they’re in pain, screaming, I love it like nothing else. And even if you did let me out, I don’t know if I could control that urge inside of me. I don’t know if I could stop.” This was the most honest Roman had ever heard Remus.   
Roman had never considered that Remus might be afraid of himself, might be aware that what he did was wrong and he hated it too. It made something in his heart crack just a bit, some of the hardness he had for his brother soften just a tad. Because he was being genuine, he meant it. Without thinking he reached up, carefully brushing away Remus’s tears.   
“I get started and I can’t stop and…I’m sorry… I know I can’t fix this… I’m sorry…” Remus whispered, looking down.   
“I… I’m sorry too. I wish it were different, Ree. I wish everything had been different. I hope we can figure something out, but for now you’re gonna have to stay down here.” Remus nodded, smiling sadly up at Roman.   
“I know. It’s ok, Ro. I wouldn’t trust me out there either.” Remus let go of Roman’s hand, backing up and leaning against the wall once more, a mirror of his former posture, the anger replaced with sorrow.   
“I… I’ll visit again, Ree. If you want. Until we can… can decide on something.” Remus nodded. Roman hesitated at the door, looking back at Remus once, who gave him a weak smile.   
Remmy was waiting for him in the hall, having slipped out at some point when their conversation turned more personal. He raised a brow at Roman, who just shrugged. He was still angry, but it wasn’t the burning ire of before. He was more confused than anything else, unsure what to feel, how to reconcile the Remus who had attacked his friends with the one who was just as afraid of himself as Roman was. He was pissed and sad and worn out and he didn’t know what to think of his brother anymore.  
They walked in silence back up the stairs, to the cozy parlor where Logan and Thomas were still sitting by the fire in hushed conversation. They both stopped as they saw Roman, Logan immediately getting to his feet, going to him.   
“How did it go?” Logan asked, unable to get a read on Roman’s expression. He hesitated.   
“I don’t… really know.” Roman answered, placing his hands on Logan’s waist, leaning in and kissing him softly, savoring the warmth of him. After a long moment, Logan pulled back, looking up into Roman’s face.   
“Dear, are you alright?” He asked quietly. Roman smiled softly, firelight dancing in his eyes.   
“As long as you’re with me, love, I will be.” He pressed his lips against Logan’s forehead, smiling at the slightly exasperated sigh.   
“I think it’s far past time we get you to bed. If you’ll take care of Thomas?” Logan asked, turning to Remmy, who was smiling at their display of affection, making Logan blush.   
“I will. Come on, kid, time for bed.” He said, turning to Thomas just in time to see him let out a huge yawn, making him chuckle.   
“Yeah, that might be a good idea.” Thomas replied, getting to his feet, following Remmy down the hall, giving a small goodnight to Logan and Roman as he left. Roman gave Logan another lingering kiss, before taking his hand, leading them to their own room.   
“How did it go, really?” Logan asked, climbing into bed beside Roman, who sighed.   
“It wasn’t… what I expected. I expected him to be angry and scornful and mean. And he was, all of that. It’s just…”   
“Just what?”   
“I didn’t expect there to be anything under those feelings. And there was. Is. It’s like… like there’s two different versions of him, Lo. Like there’s the Remus I knew as my brother, who’s loving and caring and kind, then there’s the Remus that enjoys the Hunt and torture and cruelty. But you never know which version of him you’re going to be facing until he opens his mouth.” Roman answered, nuzzling his head against Logan’s neck, who shifted to wrap his arms around Roman’s middle, embracing him.   
“People are complicated. And it sounds like he went through trauma, early on in life, hunting with your parents, and in the end, with what happened to them. It’s not an excuse for his behavior, of course, or for the things he’s done, but it is an explanation. And if you can understand why he’s done the things he’s done, you can understand how to help him cease those behaviors, if that is possible at all.”   
“I love it when you speak smart talk to me.” Roman murmured, feeling Logan huff, knowing he was smiling.   
“You’re an idiot, dear.” Logan replied, turning so his green eyes met Roman’s, who grinned.   
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got you. You’ve got enough brains for the two of us.” Logan rolled his eyes, kissing Roman before he could get another stupid thought out of his lovely mouth.   
“Goodnight, dear.” He whispered, nestling against Roman and closing his eyes, drifting off almost instantly. Roman smiled fondly, kissing the top of Logan’s head before letting out a long breath. Despite his whirling thoughts and fluctuating emotions, soon enough he too, had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter closer to the end. This chapter was interesting to write, trying to capture how I wanted the bro's relationship to feel. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy. I'm thinking the next chapter is gonna be the last for now, but feel free to hit me up with ideas, I could use some!


	9. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang makes breakfast and Logan has a chat with our favorite prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ok, I lied, I thought this would be the last chapter, but it really got away from me, so expect one, maaaaaybe two more. This thing is at 60pgs total and I am incapable of reigning it in.

Virgil woke up with a groan, stretching his arms, wings flexing behind him. He pushed his hair back, sitting up with another groan as his muscles protested the movement. It was late afternoon, he could tell, he’d slept far longer than he meant to, though that was probably for the best. He’d needed it. He smiled, rubbing the back of his head, turning to Patton. He wasn’t there.   
He felt his heart beat skyrocket as he jumped to his feet, panicked gaze sweeping the room. He pulled open the door, hearing voices coming from down the hall. Quickly, he followed the sound, passing the parlor they’d been in last night, his steps becoming faster despite himself, as he practically sprinted into the next room, skidding to a stop in the doorway.   
It was a kitchen. Logan was measuring flour and pouring it into a bowl, which Roman was mixing. He coughed as flour puffed up into his face, making a noise as he stuck out his tongue at the taste.   
“Isso bad!” He exclaimed, Logan putting down the measuring cup, rolling his eyes as he dusted off Roman’s shirt, before taking over the mixing.   
Thomas was sitting at the edge of the counter, a book open in front of him, mindlessly chewing on the end of a pencil, looking up at the cooking shenanigans with a chuckle. Remmy was nowhere to be seen and-   
“I found the blueberries! They were in the back of the garden, hiding in the brush. Should really start pulling weeds later, it’s a mess back there!” His heart stopped and he melted in relief. There was Patton, his hair tousled, his cheeks rosy from being outside, a few scratches on his arm from climbing through bramble. Gods, he was beautiful, wasn’t he?   
“Well, Roman found the mythical cloud of flour, known to attack unsuspecting stirrers.” Thomas commented, not looking up from his book.   
“How was I to know flour was aggressive? I’m not the baking master here, that title belongs to Sir Patton of the Spatula!” Roman announced, giving a flourishing bow to Patton, who laughed, dusting some flour off the top of Roman’s head.   
“How did it even get up there! Seriously, this stuff is worse than glitter.” Roman huffed, standing straight once again, grin freezing as he registered Virgil standing in the doorway, face stricken.   
“Virgil!” Roman exclaimed, causing Logan to stop his stirring, Thomas to close his book, and Patton dropped the bowl of blueberries, whirling around to face the door.   
“Hey guys.” Virgil replied, feeling a bit self conscious with all the attention focused on him, his wings rustled as he resettled them nervously. Instantly Patton was across the room, hands in Virgil’s hair as he pressed his lips against Virgil’s fervently, taking his breath away.   
“G’morning pat.” Virgil murmured, pulling back and twining his fingers through Patton’s.   
“Are you alright? Feeling… feeling ok?” Virgil shrugged.   
“Better, yeah. I… you scared me, a bit.” Virgil answered, “I woke up and you weren’t there and I...”   
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I only meant to be gone for a moment. Got kinda roped into things here.” Virgil snorted, looking over Patton’s shoulder to the mess overtaking the kitchen.   
“I get it. Someone had to keep these idiots from burning down the castle.”   
“You wound me, Virgil! How shall I continue my baking career with such vile words in my mind?” Roman asked dramatically.   
“You weren’t even doing most of the work.” Thomas pointed out, Roman turning his false glare on the kid.   
“Alas, I have been struck down in my prime. The only thing that can save me now is true love’s kiss!” He sunk to the floor, hand flared across his forehead. Logan shook his head, but set down the mixing bowl.   
“Oh no. My poor Roman. I shall give thee a parting kiss.” He said a bit stiffly, though clearly trying his best to play along. He leaned down and kissed the tip of Roman’s nose.   
“What? That’s all I get?” Roman asked, sitting up, staring disbelievingly at Logan.   
“Well, it apparently worked, given you’re now up and speaking. If you’re lucky, you’ll get more after you help me finish these pancakes.” Logan replied teasingly.   
“Excellent performance, Logan!” Patton congratulated.   
“I try. I have been reading some plays recently, and being with him gives you a sense of how to perform dramas.” Logan replied, pouring the batter onto a pan, sizzling covering up Roman’s offended sound.   
Patton tugged on Virgil’s hand, leading him over to the counter. Patton pulled out a chair, while Virgil hopped up onto the counter, legs dangling off the edge, looking down at Thomas’s book.   
“Whatcha reading, kid?”   
“Remmy showed me the library. Have you ever been in there? It’s amazing! This is one he recommended for me, it’s like an intro to magic book. Of course, it’s written by fae, so the most basic info is totally new to me.”   
“Neat. I spent a lot of time in there, before. Usually pretty quiet, even though it’s technically opened to the public. Not a lot of fae interested in reading, under Dee’s rule. Made it the perfect place to hide out.” Virgil replied.   
“Most of the stuff with magic, I’ve just kinda figured out on my own. It’s… amazing, having a guide to go by. To actually understand why and how it all works.” Thomas’s eyes were sparkling with excitement, as he tucked the pencil behind his ear.   
“I could teach you. If you want, I mean. Obviously I don’t know everything but, I’ve got a pretty good handle on what we’d consider basics.” Thomas lit up at Virgil’s offer, making Virgil blush and look away.   
“Seriously?”   
“Why not?” Virgil shrugged.   
“That would be so cool. Plus, y’know, I wouldn’t mind getting to hang out with you all.” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his head.  
“Aw, you’re always free to visit, kiddo!”   
“Thanks, Patton.” He muttered, turning an adorable shade of red.   
“Order up, folks!” Roman slid a plate of pancakes across the counter, already stuffing one into his mouth.   
“Could you at least use a plate, dear?” Logan asked.   
“You’re no fun!” He protested, grabbing a plate anyway.   
“So, I was gonna clean up the garden back there today. Do you wanna help?” Patton asked quietly, as they ate. “I know you like plants.” Virgil seemed startled.   
“How do you know that? I’ve never said anything that.”   
“Whenever you were in the workroom, if I asked you to grab something, you always knew exactly what I was asking for. I just told you the name of the plant, didn’t even give a description, but you never brought me the wrong thing. Not even Logan is that good. Plus you would bring me ones, sometimes, stuff from deeper in the woods. Plants I hadn’t even seen, sometimes, and you knew their exact purpose and name and how to best use them or take care of them if you transplanted them. You didn’t need to say it, it was obvious.” Patton answered, confused at the confusion on Virgil’s face.   
“I didn’t know you noticed stuff like that, is all.” Virgil replied, biting his lip.   
“I notice all kinds of stuff, Virg. Because I care.”   
“Because you two’ve been pining for each other since the moment Patton brought you home!” Roman threw in, through a mouthful of pancake.   
“Oh come on, it wasn’t since that early. Right?” Virgil asked, turning to Patton, who’s cheeks were burning.   
“Virgil, I know I tend to be the one who overlooks these kinds of things, but Patton’s feelings are never a mystery, and he presented all the classic signs of being, how do they say it, smitten, as he cared for you.”   
“wha-no-i-what?!” It was Virgil’s turn to feel his face heating as he turned back to Patton.   
“You know I’m a dreamer, Virg. Love at first sight was… is… real to me.” He stammered out.   
“Patton you are absolutely ridiculous.” Virgil said, cutting off Patton before he could protest that assessment, “and I absolutely love you for it.” He kissed Patton, soft and slow, pulling away with a smile. “And I would love to help you in the garden later.” He murmured, getting caught in Patton’s brilliant blue eyes, bright with excitement and love that burned in Virgil’s heart.   
“Well, I am going to go inspect this library Thomas was talking about. It is simply unacceptable that there is such a huge wealth of knowledge in this building that I was completely unaware of.” Logan stated, pushing up his glasses.   
“I’ll do the dishes and clean all… this up. It is mostly my mess anyway.” Roman said sheepishly, grinning.   
“Garden time?” Patton asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.   
“Garden time.” Virgil confirmed, looping an arm through Patton’s. 

Logan had put a few pancakes on a plate, along with a handful of blueberries and a cup of syrup, along with the appropriate utensils. He grabbed it on the way out of the room, everyone else preoccupied enough they didn’t notice, except Thomas, who was coming his way to show him to the library.   
“Sooo what’s with the food?” He asked once they were outside in the hall, clearly sensing something secretive was going on. Logan was grateful for his perception, he didn’t want to have an argument with Roman about this.   
“While I do indeed plan on visiting the library, I may have misled Roman by implying I was going directly there. Cleaning the kitchen should occupy him long enough for me to… do an errand and still get to the library before Roman does.” Thomas raised a brow, skeptical.   
“Uh huh. This mystery errand wouldn’t have anything to do with someone’s rogue evil twin?” He asked, and suddenly Logan was cursing the same astuteness he’d been praising moments earlier.   
“I… simply have something else to do, quickly.” Logan responded vaguely.   
“Are you ready?” Remmy asked, coming around the corner, interrupting their conversation.   
“I am.”   
“Good. It’ll open for you.”   
“Wait, he gets to go in there alone, but Roman doesn’t? Aren’t you the one he almost killed?” Thomas asked skeptically.   
“While it is true he nearly killed me, Roman is more likely to actively try and kill him if the two of them are left alone and unsupervised. I don’t lose my reasoning as easily as him.”   
“I trust him to behave himself, unlike Roman, who can be… unpredictable.” Remmy said hesitantly, obviously trying not to offend Logan.   
“That is a fair assessment. I’ll be on my way now.” Logan said, slipping past Thomas and towards the stairs. 

Logan pushed open the door to the room with the cell, walking into the room calmly, despite the slight twinge of nerves that lingered in the back of his head.   
Remus was sitting huddled in the corner of the cell, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them, head down on top of his knees. Logan hesitated, wondering if was asleep. If so, he didn’t want to disturb his rest, but he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to make it down here again. Also, would it be strange to leave the food for him, if when he woke he didn’t know where it had come from, he probably wouldn’t eat it. He was considering leaving, when Remus shifted, his almost neon green eyes meeting Logan’s. Logan felt his heart pound and blood rush from his head, but he refused to show his fear.  
“Um. Hello. I brought you some breakfast. It may be a bit cold by now, but they should still taste good. I wasn’t sure what toppings you prefer, so I brought some butter, syrup, and wild blueberries.” Logan approached the bars, sliding the plate under them. He then sat down, leaning back against the wall of the room, looking into the cell on the right. Remus hadn’t moved from his position, but he was still watching Logan intently, eyes unreadable.   
“We never met, properly, I mean. I’m Logan. As you are aware, I’m a Wolf, though I don’t shift often, at least, not as often as those in packs would. Usually it’s only when I need to move fast, or occasionally when Patton,” he sighed, adjusting his glasses, “wants to play fetch.” As he’d hoped, Remus let out a laugh, surprising himself as he choked on his own spit.   
“What?! Like, he throws sticks and you pick them up and trot back over? Does he take you for walks in town? Enter you in competitions?”  
“I’m sure he would, given the opportunity, however I prefer not to alarm the townspeople with my size and obvious wolf appearance. I prefer to stay quiet and out of the spotlight.” He replied, carefully hiding his own small smile.  
“Wolves aren’t normally solitary.” Remus stated, but the question was there. Logan adjusted his glasses.   
“No. We normally aren’t.” He replied softly. “I don’t seem it, but I am… curious. About why things work the way they do. How magic works, why it works, how it all fits together. Packs move, and so we were always going through different towns, different cities. I’d always read through the library. Visit any local hedgewitches, any magic users in the area who were known. I was too… nondescreet in my questions and brought attention to myself. It was a medium sized town, enough there was a wall and a guard posted. Some people figured out what I was, and despite my attempts to explain that I meant no harm, none of us did, they attempted to capture me. I panicked, and in a bid to get away I shifted.”   
“Didn’t go well?” Remus asked, barely bothering to feign disinterest anymore.   
“That is one way to put it, yes. They succeeded in getting me muzzled, getting a rope around my neck. They were trying to drag me to the town square. Execute me. I feigned passing out, from the rope, which wasn’t entirely untrue, it was choking me, but they relaxed their grip and I was able to yank free and run. I almost made it free, but they’d sounded the alarm. I made it out the gates but one of the guards managed to slash my haunch, and an arrow made it in my leg before I got to cover. I was disoriented, dazed, I was just trying to get away.”   
“They didn’t track you?” Logan shrugged.  
“They didn’t care enough to. I’d run and they knew I wouldn’t be coming back, or I would no doubt be killed on sight. But someone else did. Track me.”  
“Roman.”   
“He hadn’t been at the village, but he’d been wandering through the forest doing… whatever, probably skipping through the woods singing, attracting song birds to him.” Remus snorted, making Logan smile smally. “He picked up the trail. He knew what they were… what I was… I know now why, of course, but at the time I didn’t question it.  
I’d found a small hollow under a tree and tucked myself down in there. I couldn’t get the ropes off, so I couldn’t shift back and the arrow at least had fallen out as I ran, it wasn’t in too deep. I heard footsteps. I assumed that it was someone from the village, and I growled, hackles raised. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but if it couldn’t be avoided I wasn’t going to go without a fight.  
“It’s ok, it’s ok. I just wanna help.” He said, kneeling in front of my little alcove, hands raised. “I’m gonna get that off you, ok?” He moved slowly, feeling the rumble of my throat through the ground. My ears were pinned to my head, but he didn’t even flinch. Just let out a slow breath as he managed to untie the makeshift muzzle and get it free.   
“There we go. Ok, I’m going to get that off your neck now, but it’s too tight to slip off. I need to cut it.” I was baring my teeth at that idea, and as he reached forwards anyway I snapped at him. I grazed his arm, not enough to draw blood, but enough to scrape him. “Wow. Rude. Listen, if I was going to hurt you, I already would have. I swear, I won’t.” Something in his voice convinced me. His eyes were just… so sincere and he looked so worried, for me. So I came out. His eyes widened as he saw the wounds, and he almost reached out a hand, but he pulled back, turning his attention to the rope. He pulled out a pocket knife, looking at me for permission, almost. I hesitated, but ducked my head. I felt his hands on my fur, then the pressure around my neck vanished and I shook head to tail, yelping at the pain from my side.   
“That’s gotta hurt.” He winced in sympathy, and I felt his hands close to the wound, examining it. I didn’t move, though I could have pounced, clawed him, ran away, back to the pack. But I didn’t know where I was anymore, and I knew I wouldn’t make it all that far.   
“So, here’s the deal. I have a friend who can help with that. Our place isn’t too far from here. I can lead you there. He won’t be afraid of you, trust me. If anything, he’ll be a little too enthusiastic about a giant puppy he gets to play with. It’ll be easier to treat you if you shift back. It would probably be better if you shifted back, actually. Walking on that leg, probably not the best plan. I don’t want you stressing it out more. Plus using it will cause more blood to flow to that area, and you’ve already lost quite a bit.” He was right. I was already feeling the effects of blood loss, I was a bit dizzy, off balance.   
So I closed my eyes. And shifted. And waited, still half afraid this was a trap, or he would hurt me, or… well. That’s not what happened, obviously. I opened my eyes after a moment, his stunned eyes on me.   
“Er, hi. To be honest, I was only seventy five percent sure I was actually talking to someone and not just a freaky big wolf.”   
“I’m sure a wild animal would have responded very well to your encroachment of its space, yes.” I replied.   
“Well, you did almost bite me. I’m Roman, by the way.”   
“Logan. Nice to meet you, I suppose.” I replied.   
“Suppose?”   
“I’m not exactly sure of the proper greetings in this situation. It’s not exactly one I’ve been in before.” I answered, wincing as I felt my side, hand coming away sticky and red. Roman’s gaze sharpened, and he took off his sash, wrapping it around my middle, tying it tight to help the bleeding. I yelped as he scooped me up off the ground, the shallow wound from the arrow on my leg protesting at the sudden movement.   
“Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry!”   
“It’s… it’s fine. Was inevitable, given my positioning.” And off we went.” Logan finished, coming out of his own mind. He’d barely been aware he was talking, it was so vivid in his head, the memories.   
“What? What happened then? Why didn’t you go looking for your pack? How did you and Roman,” He gestured wildly, “happen?” Logan smiled.  
“He brought me home. Patton patched me up. It took a while to get back to full health, and by the time I had the pack was long gone. They’d moved on as soon as they’d heard what happened at the village, I’m sure. I wasn’t allowed to walk for a few days, and Roman… well, does what he does best. Entertained. He acted out one person plays and dramas, sometimes playing several parts, sometimes dragging Patton into it. He sang for me, he kept me company when I simply wanted some quiet, he was always in range to hear me if I called for him or needed something. It was obvious he… cared.” For a moment he lost himself in those memories, those late nights laughing at his portrayal of a character, Roman cursing as banged into a table trying to rehearse, his quiet voice a murmur in Logan’s ear as he drifted off to sleep.  
“I was given a clean bill of health by Patton, eventually. He was happy, of course, that I was better, but sad I would be leaving. Roman was, for the first time, avoiding me. I thought about going back, trying to find my pack, or another that would take me in. But… well, I’d always been the odd one out and I realized I’d be happier staying than in going. I tracked down Roman, where he was moping, to tell him. And… and he kissed me. I had never considered this possibility. But I found that I liked it. That I liked him. He can be overly dramatic, far too loud, and a complete and total idiot, but he makes everything more special, a little brighter. And sometimes I need that, I think. The noise, the passion, the over excitement. He makes me… have fun.” Logan finished, smiling to himself.  
“I… he means a lot to you.” Remus said, looking at the ground.   
“You mean a lot to him as well.”   
“Why’d you tell me all this? Why do you care?” Remus asked.   
“I thought that if you better understood the relationship between Roman and I, and how it came to be, you would have an easier time accepting it. That it might help you understand that not all people like me, or other kinds of magical folk, are bad intentioned. I’m not saying none of them are. There are packs who prey on human’s herds, there are vampires that feed and turn humans, there are merfolk who lure sailors to their doom. But that is a minority. Just as often the pack actively avoids human activity, the vampire just wants to be left to their own devices, the merfolk help sailors back to land whom are stranded. The loud and fearful minority should not cancel out the quiet, peaceful majority. It’s the same way with humans, after all. The people in the town were afraid, and they were willing to kill me because of their ignorance of my personality and self. Roman didn’t have a clue who I was, but he helped me anyway. Yet who do you think sings songs, tells legends, the town who drove out a pack of Wolves against all odds, or the peaceful warrior who made me fall in love?” Logan asked, readjusting his glasses.   
“I should get going. I trust you’ll keep it to yourself that I’ve been down here? Roman doesn’t know, and I wouldn’t want him going off on you about it when it was completely my own decision. He can be rather…”   
“Stubborn? Infuriating?” Remus finished. Logan smiled wryly.   
“While true, in this case I was thinking more overly protective.” Remus shrugged.   
“I won’t tell. This sounds like a thing for you two to work out.”   
“Well. Goodbye, then, I suppose.” Logan said, awkwardly getting to his feet.   
“Wait. Logan, I… I liked this. Talking. To you. It… helped, I think. You wouldn’t mind… sometime…”   
“I wouldn’t be adverse to spending some more time speaking with you, no. I will try and work out an acceptable schedule with Remmy and Virgil. Perhaps they can run interference on Roman until I’m certain he won’t do something drastic, either to you or me or himself, when I tell him about this.” Logan answered, turning to the door, letting himself relax. Things had gone better than he’d hoped.   
“One… one more thing. Thanks for the pancakes. And… and I’m… I’m sorry.” The last words were almost a whisper, almost quiet enough he didn’t hear. But he did, and he felt himself soften just a bit more.   
“I appreciate the apology, Remus. And I accept it, for what you did to me, specifically. I don’t think I can accept it for what you did to the others. That… that you’ll have to earn.” Logan answered, not turning away from the door as he opened it, stepping out into the hall.  
“I’ll try.” Then the door closed.


	10. An Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Virgil do some gardening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER FOLKS  
> I do intent to write more in this AU, I'm just not sure what yet. And if you've gotten this far, thanks so much for reading!

Virgil let out a whistle as they walked into the back garden. It was overgrown with weeds, more like bushes at this point, really. The fruit tree’s branches were dragging across the ground, the berry bushes were far in the back, thorny vines wrapping around them. No wonder Patton had gotten scratches from climbing around back here.   
“Not exactly the most upkept garden I’ve ever seen.” Virgil said dryly, examining a struggling patch of herbs, their leaves wilted and patch choked with creeping Charlie.   
There were an abundance of wildflowers as well, little daisies and purple clover, small blue flowers and snap dragons. It was quite pretty, and he wondered if he should leave a patch of it, as it was.   
“Well, we better get started!” Patton said cheerfully, choosing a patch near the door to start weeding. Virgil smiled softly, kneeling down beside him, starting to weed as well.   
For a while, Virgil lost himself in the repetitive task of pulling up weeds, being careful to get the roots as well so it wouldn’t simply grow back. He enjoyed the feel of dirt against his fingers, the sun against his back, its warmth absorbed by his dark feathers. After a while, he was humming softly to himself as the pile of weeds behind him grew. He didn’t notice the tension fading from his shoulders, his wings stretching out across the ground behind him, he was in his own little world.   
His ears perked up as he heard voices. He stretched, turning around, surprised to see Patton a couple feet away in the garden, talking to what, from a distance, looked like small glimmering lights.   
“I don’t think he’s up for it today.” Patton said, apologetically. He heard chattering in response, one of the lights flying up in front of his eyes.   
“I know, but he only woke up today, and you don’t want to overwhelm him.” The light dimmed slightly, circling around Patton’s head once, before settling on his shoulder.   
“Oh! I didn’t know that. Well, we can leave it a bit wild, I’m sure. We’re just trying to clear out a bit of the weeds, so the flowers and herbs and stuff actually have room to grow. It might be a little bare for a while, but those’ll grow out fast.” Sparkling laughter, and Patton smiled.   
“If you say so. Wild magic isn’t exactly my department. I’m better at healing than anything else.”   
“Making new friends?” Virgil asked, walking up beside Patton, eyes glinting dangerously as he looked at the small swarm of tiny faeries. They could easily be mistaken for fireflies, but upon closer inspection they were perfectly formed, tiny people, with dragonfly wings, barely as tall as half a pinkie finger.  
“You looked so… peaceful. I didn’t want them bothering you. But we got to talking a bit. They like the garden wild, they live out here. But if we clear out the weeds they can help the flowers to grow! They like flowers more, anyway.” Patton answered, small chimes of agreement meeting his words.   
Virgil blinked as a fairy settled on his nose. He crossed his eyes to get a better look at her. She was pale and luminescent, with black hair and a lilac petal dress. She was what humans envisioned faeries to be, all tiny perfection and gentle beauty. Flower faeries. Well, if Patton was going to meet any, it might as well be them. They were about as harmless as you could get, their only real power being helping plants grow, especially those they were connected to. No wonder their pruning had stirred them up, they could be rather protective of their territories.   
“Hey there. Playing nice, I hope?” He asked, she was so light he barely felt her at all, it was like a leaf sitting on his face.   
“Of course.” Another faerie replied, landing on his shoulder. She wore rose petals, her hair golden curls. “Disturbing your Camellia would be terrible. Especially when he’s so considerate.” She sniffed, Virgil’s face instantly turning red at her words.   
“Not everyone would show him that respect, so I appreciate it, regardless.” Virgil replied, trying to keep his face even. Another faerie from atop Patton’s head giggled. She was laying in his hair, legs kicking the air as she twined a finger around a strand. She was dressed in daisy petals, eyes a brilliant blue.   
“We’re just happy to meet you, my king. It’s been a while since we had a proper one, after all, and I get the feeling you’re just the thing this place needs. A good pruning, from the ground to the canopy.” The lilac one on his nose stood, shaking out her wings and jumping into the air.   
“Let’s go, girls.” They took flight, buzzing around their heads one last time, before flitting off through the bushes.   
“Bye Patton!” One of them called, then they were gone from sight, though no doubt somewhere nearby still, checking on their other flower sisters.   
“Flower fae. Each of them is bonded to a specific type of flower or plant, similar to dryads and their trees. Except instead of being tied to the wellbeing of a single flower, it’s to the species of flower.” Virgil explained, not looking at Patton for fear his face would start burning all over again. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a daisy tucked into Patton’s hair, no doubt a gift from one of the little miscreants. “Rather peaceful and harmless, if a bit gossipy and vain!” He yelled the last part, certain they would hear it, not disappointed as the three squeaked, darting off once more, for real this time.   
“They seemed nice.” Virgil snorted.   
“Of course they did. The only baseline for fae behavior you have is Dee. Anything seems nice in comparison.” He muttered.   
“That’s not true. I have you. And you seem… wonderful.” Was the word Patton settled on as he contemplated Virgil’s dark violet hair, his ebony shimmering wings, his brilliant eyes, the soft concern that always radiated from him. “And perfect, and beautiful and kind.” He could see the tips of Virgil’s ears turning red, and smiled, tipping his chin up so their eyes met.   
“And absolutely lovely.” Then their lips touched and the only thing in the world was the heat between them, the warmth of skin on skin, the sweetness of honey and the sound of happiness.   
“What did it mean, what the faeries called me?” Patton asked, breaking away for breath, inquisitive blue eyes meeting Virgil’s dark ones. Virgil bit his lip, arms crossing before him.   
“Camellia. It’s… it’s a kind of flower. It means beloved. Or… or life partner. In their language.” Patton’s eyes widened, mouth forming a silent oh. He was confused, a little hurt at why Virgil seemed almost afraid of the word, of the explanation. Seconds ago they’d been kissing, been lost in each other, but now he was almost as distant as he’d ever been before.  
“Is that what you’d like me to be?” Patton asked softly, carefully.  
“of course, Pat. I’ve wanted it for so long. But it could, has, already gotten you hurt. What if something happens to you? What if another fae tries to take over? What if I can’t protect you?”   
“I am never going to leave you, Virgil. And things happen, dangers are out there, and real, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t love. We should love despite it all, because every moment of being together is a miracle by that logic. And you need someone, too, sweetie. To protect you. And I accept all the risks that come with loving you, with being your partner, being your soul mate. Because I love you.” Patton drew Virgil close to him, hugging him tightly.   
“You don’t have to live all of life alone, you shouldn’t! Don’t let Him still control you, don’t let Him make you afraid of this. Because you beat him. You did. And if you can do that, you can do anything.” Patton said firmly, pulling back, hands resting on Virgil’s waist, faces inches apart.   
“Ok?” He asked, firmly, more of a statement than a question, that fire that Virgil loved back in his eyes, that protectiveness that said Patton would fight anyone or anything to keep Virgil from thinking poorly of himself.   
“ok.” He whispered, his love overwhelming him, and he knew the faeries were right, that this was right, that Patton was right. They could do this. All of this. Together. He had friends, had a family, who loved him and cared, and he would do anything to protect them, including rule this court that he hated. And they would be there for him, through it all, no matter what.   
"I love you, Patton."


End file.
